All I Ever Wanted
by whatarushh
Summary: It's a long road to recovery.
1. Kidnap An Angel

A/N: Hey there! So, yes, this is a post-finale fic, and it IS almost a month and a half since the finale. But if you recall, I didn't see the finale until almost two weeks after it aired, so I'm a bit behind. And my mind was totally blown for like two weeks after that. And I have to write every day for my internships. SO, in conclusion, this has been/is slow going.

All the usual disclaimers apply here - I don't own Castle, blah blah blah. All chapter titles and subsequent lyrics are courtesy of Bon Jovi. The story title is courtesy of Santana, and that song will make its presence known later on. But anyway, on with it! :)

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><p><em>Chapter 1 - Kidnap An Angel<br>__  
>If I could kidnap an angel<br>I'd clip off his wings  
>And bring them to you<br>That would fix everything_

She was going to be okay.

In a few days, Kate Beckett would be fine and awake and laughing at him for being so damn worried about her.

Yep, she'd be okay.

Rick Castle was white-knuckled on his car's steering wheel, and fought down a wave of nausea.

She _had to be okay._

Fifteen minutes later, he exploded into the New York-Presbyterian emergency room, Alexis and Martha hot on his heels. His heart was beating at an unnaturally painful rate, and he knew he must be as white as a sheet, but there was no room in his head for anything but his partner. He stalked over to the corner where Jim Beckett sat huddled in a chair, looking strained and somber; he'd ridden to the hospital with Kate in the ambulance.

"Is she—?" Rick choked out.

Jim looked up. "She's in surgery." He rubbed a shaking hand down his face, and it was with a horrible pang that Rick realized the gravity of the man's situation; that he'd just witnessed his only daughter being shot.

He dropped weakly into the seat next to him, and felt his own daughter take a seat on his opposite side. This was a nightmare. A true, honest-to-god nightmare.

There was a commotion, and Rick looked up to see Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie – the latter two holding hands, which would've made him smile on any other day – enter the waiting room.

"She's in surgery," he said preemptively, his voice cracking.

Lanie's face was streaked with tears, and she looked a bit unsteady on her feet. Esposito guided her into a chair, and he and Ryan sat down as well.

"We don't know anything else?" Ryan asked in a strained voice.

Jim shook his head, looking to be on the verge of tears himself. "No."

Rick leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. It was only then that he realized they were shaking.

The next few hours passed a haze of horrible. Rick only managed to stay in his chair for about five minutes at a time, because sitting meant thinking, and thinking meant imagining Kate being shot. Recreating the scenario in which a bullet ripped through her chest. Seeing the look of shock on her face as she was knocked backwards by the impact. Watching the deep crimson stain spread rapidly across her shirt and pool on the ground beneath her. He never let himself get farther than that, and would be up and pacing the length of the room.

He told Martha and Alexis to go home after an hour and a half with no news; there was no sense in them sitting there. They only left after a brief but fierce argument, which Rick only won after promising to call as soon as anything happened.

Ryan left not long after.

"I really need to be with Jenny right now," he said, looking at Rick apologetically. "It's just… today's been a lot, and I… I don't know, I need to see her. To make sure she's still here." He shifted awkwardly.

Rick smiled thinly. "No, I get it. Go be with her."

"But you _call me_," Ryan said seriously. "I mean it, Castle. The second something happens, I need to know."

"You know I will."

Rick watched Ryan go, wishing that he too could be with the woman he loved. Who, his conscience reminded him, was going to kill him when (or if, he thought, a fist of fear clenching around his heart) she woke up. Seriously, who springs something like that on someone at a time like that? Characters in a soap opera, that's who. And as much as he knew Kate was a fan of Temptation Lane, she would not want to live in a world of such ridiculous drama.

Yep. When she was better, she'd kill him. And he couldn't wait.

Some time later, Lanie's stomach growled, and Esposito asked if she wanted to leave.

"Just for a bit," he said. "Change your clothes, get something to eat…"

He was silenced when her eyes shot daggers at him.

"Javier Esposito, the farthest I'm moving from this chair is to the cafeteria for a wilted salad."

Esposito sighed in defeat, and held out his arm. Lanie took it and turned her gaze to the two remaining men.

"We won't be long."

And then Rick was alone with Jim Beckett.

His mind flashed to the conversation they'd had when Jim came to his apartment. He had asked Rick, man to man, to protect his daughter. And he'd tried to. He'd gone to her captain to tell her to stand down, and when that had failed he'd gone to ask her himself. He'd asked her to walk away from the single most important aspect of her life and expected… what, exactly? Had he thought she'd react any better than she did? Was he surprised that she'd lashed out and closed herself off? No, not if he was being honest with himself. But that didn't soften the blow of their last legitimate conversation to date being a knockdown, drag-out fight.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying quietly. "Jim, I'm so sorry." Jim looked at him with eyes precisely the same shade of green as his daughter's. Rick wanted to cry. "You asked me to protect her and I obviously couldn't because now we're here, and – god, I tried, I told her she couldn't let herself get killed over this, but we just fought, and—"

"Rick," Jim broke in. "I didn't ask you to be her bodyguard. I didn't ask you to take a—" his voice broke, and he took a shuddering breath, "take a bullet for her. If you say you tried, than I trust that you did."

There was a beat of silence.

"But we fought," Rick said in a low voice. "We've never had it out like that before. She – she told me that we're over."

"I know my daughter," Jim said. "Katie only gets like that if you touch a nerve."

"And I did." Rick didn't really want to say all of this, but it tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I was asking her to walk away from investigating her mother's murder. So of course she pushed, and I was an idiot and pushed back…" He sighed brokenly and rubbed his hands down his face.

"Katie's life is full of people who don't push back," Jim said quietly. "Why do you think she got so wrapped up in Jo's murder the first time around? She was hell bent on finding something, and nobody had it in them to pull her away. And where did that get her?" He swallowed hard. "So she may fight you, but I promise, she appreciates that you push. And I do too, for that matter."

Silence fell as the two men became absorbed in their thoughts. Talking with Jim had given Rick an odd sense of comfort, and he no longer felt the need to do laps around the room.

Things fell into a perverse sort of status quo after that. Lanie and Esposito resumed their seats, and Ryan returned after an hour or so as well. Every now and then, one of their number would make a trip to the coffee machine and nurse their cup of brown sludge until it no longer warmed their hands through the paper cup. Rick found it utterly disgusting anyway, but gave up on it after a single cup because it reminded him of Kate. He'd brought coffee for her so many times that he automatically began preparing two cups, and the abysmal quality of the coffee at the hospital wasn't worth the emotional damage of having to force himself to only pour a cup for himself.

Rick checked his watch; he was beginning to get antsy. How long was this supposed to take? Was it a good thing that there was no news yet? He thought briefly of asking Lanie; she was a medical professional, after all. But her eyes were still puffy, and he just didn't have the heart say anything.

So they waited.

The sun was low in the sky and casting dramatic shadows in the room before anything happened.

"Family of Katherine Beckett?"

Rick nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart suddenly pounding in his throat. Good god. All he'd wanted for the last six hours was news, and now that he was about to get it, he wasn't so sure he wanted it. Nonetheless, he was the first of the group to reach the doctor. She was a rather petite woman, and he nearly bowled her over in his rush.

Once everyone was gathered around, she smiled politely – not in a particularly happy way, but more as a greeting. "My name is Dr. Ohlsen; I was in charge of Katherine's surgery. She was very lucky," she said. Rick appreciated that she knew that now was not the time for pleasantries. "She may have gotten hit in the chest, but the bullet missed everything that would've caused her to bleed out within minutes. That being said," she continued, "she did lose a lot of blood, but we were able to replenish that fairly well. The bullet ricocheted in her chest and did cause a bit of damage – more so than it would've had it gone straight through. Her right collarbone is broken, but honestly, that appears to be the worst of it." She smiled. "We'll be keeping her anesthetized for the night so she can wake up with less pain, and the next 24 hours will be the most critical, but she should make a full recovery."

There was a collective sigh of relief. Rick simultaneously felt like doing a jig and felt like his knees were about to give out.

"Can we see her?" he asked weakly.

"I can let you in briefly," Dr. Ohlsen said. "But after fifteen minutes or so I'm going to have to ask anyone who isn't family to leave. I'll also be limiting her visitors tomorrow, as it's the most crucial time in her recovery. But if everything's going well after that, she'll be able to see visitors around the clock."

Rick experienced a brief flare of indignation, but as he followed Dr. Ohlsen to Kate's room, he was just glad that he was going to have to deal with visiting hours at all.

"If her collarbone's broken, that means she'll need to be in a sling for awhile," Ryan muttered as they made their way down the hall. "God, Beckett's going to _hate_ that!"

Rick laughed, and clapped him happily on the shoulder.

_She was going to be okay._

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><p>AN: I don't think Beckett actually got shot in the chest, but I've had one particular scene planned in my head for about a year now that involves her arm in a sling. And it's cute. So work with me here!

Reviews make my day! (hint hint, wink wink!)


	2. Someday I'll Be Saturday Night

A/N: Wow, has so much time passed already? Hmm. I really meant to upload this on Wednesday or Thursday, but then my family went away for the weekend. And THEN I meant to upload it last night, but the internet connection at the hotel was atrocious and wouldn't let me :(. I mean, I'm trying to post chapters at a rate where I'm writing faster than I'm posting, but still. My apologies!

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><p><em>Chapter 2 - Someday I'll Be Saturday Night<em>

_Hey, man, I'm alive,  
>I'm taking each day and night at a time<br>__Yeah I'm down,  
><em>_But I know I'll get by _

Rick didn't sleep particularly well that night. It was a great comfort to know that Kate's heart was still beating, but that didn't keep him from being a tad anxious. Dr. Ohlsen had said she wasn't entirely out of the woods yet, and the fact that she was alive didn't mean she was okay. He wanted to see her open her eyes, hear her voice. Those fifteen minutes in her hospital room had merely confirmed for him that she's still there physically; the beeps of the various machines she was hooked up to were his only indication that there was still something going on in her head.

Machines would only hold him over for so long.

He tossed and turned for several hours, trying and failing to ignore the ache in his chest that was pulling him, like some kind of magnetic force, to the hospital. But while he was ignoring that, he was thinking about the fact that she might not've forgiven him for what he'd said to her when they fought. And while he was ignoring _that_, he was worrying about whether or not she'd remember his… confession, after she was shot. He was torn between hoping she heard him and praying that she didn't, that things could just go back to the way they were. Because damnit, she was in a relationship, and he didn't want to be the asshole to make her unhappy and force her to choose.

Yeah, he didn't get much sleep.

He stayed in bed until the sky began to lighten, then padded to his bathroom to take a quick shower. He was in and out within minutes. Wincing as the cold tile floor touched his bare feet, he wrapped himself in a towel and wiped some of the fog off of the mirror above the sink to look at his reflection. He grimaced; it looked like he'd aged ten years in the last 24 hours.

With a sigh, Rick turned away from the mirror. With everything that had gone on, he was lucky he escaped with little more than bags under his eyes.

After quickly brushing his teeth and throwing on some clothes, he wandered into his study. It was still barely 6 am, and Dr. Ohlsen had said nobody but Jim would be allowed in to see Kate before 8, so he had some time to waste. He sat down and opened his laptop, unsure of what he was actually going to do; he knew writing would be completely futile.

He found himself drawn to his photos, and began to scroll through them. He'd accumulated precious few during his tenure at the twelfth, but treasured those he had. He couldn't really say he had a favorite, but the one that made him pause today was taken by Ryan on his cell phone one night at The Old Haunt; Rick had taken one look at it and made Ryan email it to him that instant. It was of him and Kate. Ryan had told them to make weird faces, and Rick had turned to Kate and made a ridiculous bug-eyed face at her. She'd immediately burst out laughing, and Ryan snapped the picture.

Seeing her like that made him feel all warm and fuzzy, and he sighed. Maybe telling her he loved her was the right thing to do, because hell, he'd never spoken truer words in his life.

By the time he finished his musings, the sun was fully up, so he closed his laptop and headed into the kitchen to grab something for breakfast. He was just finishing his bowl of cornflakes when Alexis came downstairs.

"Morning," she said, giving him a quick hug and kissing his cheek. "Sleep well?"

He chuckled. "Not even a little bit. You?"

She shrugged. "Dad, I was thinking… maybe gram and I shouldn't go to the Hamptons this summer either."

His brow furrowed; he'd told them yesterday, after he'd returned from the hospital, that he'd be staying in the city for the summer, for obvious reasons. "What? Why?"

"Well, with everything that's gone on, I feel like we should be here."

_For you_. She didn't say it, but Rick knew it was implied. He smiled softly. "Sweetie, it's not your job to worry about this stuff."

She huffed. "Dad, you didn't sleep last night. I can't just leave knowing you're here alone, not sleeping. And I know gram can't either."

"Listen," he said, taking her hand. "I'll be fine. Beckett and I had some issues left unresolved, but she's alive, she's going to be okay, and we're going to talk about things." He only hoped things worked in his favor. But for now, he pushed his doubts from his mind, and continued. "Sweetie, this is your last normal summer before all this college madness starts. You've been looking forward to the Hamptons for months. Don't not go on my account."

She eyed him pensively for a moment. "Okay. But I'm coming home early."

"Alexis—"

"Don't worry, this isn't _all_ about you," she said with a good-natured smile. "I want to spend a few weeks with Ash before he leaves for Stanford."

Rick smiled. "Fair enough." He stood up and brought his bowl over to the sink. "I'm going to head over to the hospital."

"Alright," Alexis said, pouring a bowl of cornflakes for herself. "Tell Beckett I'm glad she's okay, and that I'll definitely be coming to see her this week."

"Will do," he said, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I love you, munchkin."

She smiled and hugged him tighter; it wasn't often that her dad broke out the names he used to call her when she was little, and as much as they made her giggle, she knew he must really be hurting right now. "I love you too, dad. Now get out of here."

He chuckled, and obliged, heading for the door. "Am I cramping your style? You're throwing a party, aren't you? The keg must be about to arrive, and you don't want me to see it."

He looked over his shoulder to see Alexis laughing and rolling her eyes. "Yes, dad, at 7:30 in the morning."

He grinned and waved as he shut the door behind him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Her right hand was warm.

No, scratch that – it was hot. Really, really hot.

This was the first thought that drifted blearily through Kate Beckett's mind as she woke up. She was a bit perplexed, but far too drugged and sleepy to open her eyes to see what was the cause.

As she came to a bit more, it was as if her memory was on fast-forward. The funeral – the eulogy – the shot – Castle leaning over her…

She opened her eyes and immediately realized she was wearing an oxygen mask. She did a quick inventory; her chest felt like she'd been hit by a truck, but otherwise, she felt more or less normal. Sluggish and drugged, but normal. She noticed her dad sitting in a chair under the window, dozing lightly against the wall. Turning her head slightly to see what was acting as her hand's sauna, her heart melted.

Castle.

He looked rather terrible, like he hadn't slept in awhile. He was sitting in the chair next to her bed, leaning forward so he could hold her hand. He had his free elbow resting on the mattress, his head propped up in his hand, and was staring absentmindedly at their entwined fingers.

Sonofabitch. Seeing him sitting there was making her far too happy, said the rational part of her brain. But the rest of her truly didn't care.

Summoning her energy, Kate gave his fingers a faint squeeze.

Rick jumped as if he'd been given an electric shock, and turned his head to look at her quick enough to give himself whiplash. But there she was, looking at him groggily, a faint smile visible beneath the breathing apparatus covering her mouth. He wanted to laugh, he was so relieved.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice cracking with suppressed emotion, moving to sit on the side of her bed. With the hand that wasn't holding hers, he stroked her hair back off of her forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Been better," she muttered, her voice hoarse from disuse. She winced. "Hurts to breathe."

"I'd tell you not to, but I don't think that would go very well," he said, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. She smiled, and again, he was filled with so much joy it was almost comical.

"What time is it?" she asked hoarsely.

He checked his watch. "A little after nine. In the morning, obviously," he added, indicating the sunlight filtering in through the window.

She nodded, but her brow furrowed almost immediately. "What _day_ is it?"

He chuckled. "You haven't even missed 24 hours, don't worry."

"Oh. Okay. Good."

She still looked like something was bothering her. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Her eyes met his, and he could tell she was extremely conflicted. "The funeral. What happened after…?"

"Oh." He swallowed. "I don't really know. I came straight here."

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Thanks."

"As if I'd be anywhere else," he said sincerely.

"But I feel like Montgomery was…" she sighed, or tried to. "This isn't fair to him."

Honestly, Rick had to agree. "We'll do something for him," he decided. "Once you're back on your feet."

"Okay," she said, looking like she felt much better. "That's a good idea."

"Good," he said with a smile. He stood up. "I should go get your doctor, she'll want to know you're up."

"Wait, don't—" she said hurriedly, tightening her grip on his hand as he moved to leave.

Rick met her eyes, and was shocked at what he saw there: fear. Did she not want to be left alone? Jim was still in the room, albeit asleep. Did she not want him to leave? Was she afraid he would go and not come back? Did she just hate hospitals?

Honestly, he didn't care.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'll be right back. I promise."

It was with a slightly embarrassed nod that she let go of his hand.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The rest of the day was a bona-fide revolving door of visitors. Jim was in and out several times; he'd jerked awake not long after Rick had run to get Dr. Ohlsen, and only left when Kate joked she couldn't hear herself think over the growling of his stomach.

"And change your clothes," she called after him as he was leaving. "And shower, and sleep. In a bed. Please?"

He smiled. "Katie, there's no need to parent me."

"There is if you're not taking care of yourself," she said, raising an eyebrow cheekily.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "And here I was, worrying that you wouldn't be yourself when you woke up."

Lanie came by at around lunchtime, dropping a huge bouquet of flowers on Kate's nightstand before rushing to her side.

"I cannot even tell you how worried I was about you," Lanie said, wringing Kate's hand. "Why the hell'd you have to go and get yourself shot?"

Kate chuckled. "Believe me, I've been wondering that myself." She winced. "Got any tips for dealing with a broken collarbone? Or, ya know, a hole through the chest?"

Lanie sighed. "Well, you're alive. Let's be happy about that."

"True," Kate agreed. "Definitely happy to be alive. Though now I have some stuff to deal with…"

"Uh oh," Lanie said, drawing up a chair and settling herself in. "Talk to me."

Kate chewed her lip for a moment, then met her eyes. "Okay, it's—"

The door opened, and Esposito walked in. "Hey ladies!"

"No!" Lanie said, shaking her head furiously. "Uh uh. Honey, get out."

He stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"Lanie," Kate said. "Don't bother."

"What?" she exclaimed. "But—"

"We can talk another time," Kate reasoned, rather glad to have a way out of that conversation. "But your man here came all this way. We can't just kick him out."

Esposito nodded matter-of-factly in agreement, and went to place his own bunch of flowers next to Lanie's.

Lanie made a face. "I don't know who to glare at first."

Ryan made an appearance in the early afternoon; by then, Rick had returned from the hour or so he'd been away for lunch. Because Ryan came alone, they took the opportunity to grill him about what was going on at the precinct.

"Not much," he answered, rubbing at his tired eyes. "We're obviously trying to track down your sniper, but we're short on leads."

Kate tried to hide her disappointment. "I'm not surprised," she said honestly.

"What about the new captain?" Rick asked, eager to divert the conversation from the topic of Kate being shot. It was rather unfortunate that that involved talking about their slain captain. "Have they chosen anyone yet?"

Ryan shook his head. "Not yet. They're still going through possible candidates."

"Damn," Rick sighed. "This in-between stuff sucks."

"Tell me about it," Ryan said grimly. "I hate being there and seeing Montgomery's empty office."

Silence fell for a moment.

"But anyway," Ryan said, looking at Kate. "How're you doing?"

"Good, under the circumstances," she said, half smiling. "I mean, doing _anything_ hurts like a bitch, and all I've done thus far is lay here—" that earned a chuckle from Ryan, "—and I'm only going to have one functioning arm for awhile," at this, she looked ruefully at her right arm, which was now secured in a sling to prevent wear and tear to her collarbone. "But not needing the oxygen mask I had to wear this morning went a long way in making me feel like less of an invalid."

"Beckett," Ryan said mock-sadly, placing a comforting hand on her arm, "I hate to break it to you, but you'll _never_ be an invalid."

She laughed, and immediately regretted it. "Owww," she whined, swatting Ryan's arm. "You jerk! Did I not just tell you it hurts to do anything?"

Rick hung around for the better part of the day. He and Kate still hadn't talked about the way they'd left things before she was shot, and there were several times where he almost brought it up. But she didn't seem too keen to talk about it, and wasn't treating him any differently than she would on a normal day, so he had to assume they were okay. He resolved to bring it up, if she didn't first, in a few days; he really didn't want to talk about heavy things so early in her recovery. Of course, the fact that she was treating him so normally left him doubting that she'd heard what he said before she passed out. But he pushed that to the back of his mind for the time being.

He left the hospital at around 7:00, and only because Dr. Ohlsen kicked him out.

"Sorry," she said with a smile in response to his pout. "She needs to rest. But I promise, tomorrow you can come back and stay as long as you like." She turned to Kate. "Then _you_ decide when to kick him out."

"Fiiiiine," Rick groaned. He turned to Kate. "I'll be back tomorrow."

She smiled. "I know."

With a quick wave, he stepped into the hallway and shut the door.

She'd been alone for maybe fifteen minutes that evening before there was a knock, and another visitor stepped inside.

Josh.

"Hey," he said with a smile, bending to kiss her forehead. "How're you feeling?"

_Oh, I don't know. Kind of sore from the bullet and all, which you'd know if you'd come see me before now. Guilty for not having thought about you once today. Ya know, the usual._

Sighing, she fidgeted with a stray thread on her blanket. "I've been better," she muttered.

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><p>AN: I should probably mention that I'm totally making up everything about the protocols within a hospital, so sorry for any glaring weirdnesses! And I should probably do something other than apologize, lol. Thanks for all the story alerts! Man, you sure know how to flatter a girl! :) Though now I have to make sure everything I write is wonderful because now I feel indebted. Vicious cycle. Keep it going? :P


	3. Story of My Life

A/N: Hey there! Again, apologies for the delay, but um... has anyone else seen Harry Potter? Ohmygod. It's kind of taken over my life. I camped out for the NYC red carpet premiere (yeah, I was one of those crazies) - I got an autograph from Tom Felton, and Alan Rickman looked at me when I called his name! :) - and have since seen the movie three times. A-ma-zing. Totally re-obsessed, and spending my time mourning the loss of characters I've loved for over ten years. So getting into the Castle mindset has been really hard, but here we are!

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><p><em>Chapter 3 - Story of My Life<em>

_I know that no, I'm not alright  
><em>_But I'll be okay  
>'Cause anything and everything can happen.<br>It's the story of my life. _

The next day, Rick returned to the hospital to visit Kate in much higher spirits than he had the day before. Now, any anxiety related to her health was basically gone, so he could focus entirely on not focusing on his anxiety about their relationship. Friendship. Whatever they were calling it these days.

Resolutely focusing on the positive – that she was definitely alive and well – he entered the hospital with a spring in his step, swinging the gift bag he carried in what he hoped was a not-too-obnoxious way. As happy as he was, there were grieving people here. He didn't want to be _too_ callous.

He knocked softly as he entered her room. She was sitting up in bed, propped up on some pillows, and grinned when she saw him. The sight made his toes tingle.

"Morning," she greeted him.

"Hey," he said with a smile, holding out the gift he held. "I brought you something."

She looked at him reproachfully as he took a seat. "Castle, you didn't have to do that."

"Oh, no, I definitely did," he said with a chuckle. "You'll see. Just open it."

She eyed him apprehensively, but obliged. She took the bag from him and pulled out a stuffed panda bear.

Unable to hide her smile – it _was_ really freaking cute, and sinfully soft – she looked at him curiously. "I know I'm not a hundred percent here yet, but I'm confused."

"There's more," Rick said.

Interest definitely piqued now, Kate returned to the bag and pulled out a children's book. Upon reading the title, her face cracked into the biggest smile it had seen in over a week; "_Beckett and the Panda-monium."_

"His name's Beckett," Rick supplied. "Beckett the Panda."

Kate laughed happily, mentally giving the pain in her chest the finger. "This is _fantastic._ And he's adorable." She met his eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, grinning. "Now don't you see why I had to?"

"Yes I do," she said, petting her new companion. "He looks like a good bedmate. Though I've never really slept with stuffed animals."

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Never?"

"Well," she amended, "I tried to. For a long time. But I would always wake up and find them on the floor, so I kind of gave up."

"So your subconscious isn't much of a cuddler?" he joked.

"Apparently not," she answered, still looking at Beckett the Panda. "I might have to give this guy a try, though. He would've been good to have around last night." Almost immediately, she looked as though she regretted adding that last sentence.

Rick looked concerned. "Lonely?"

She sighed, knowing that this conversation was unavoidable. "You could say that." She put Beckett the Panda aside. "Look, we should probably talk."

He swallowed, heart suddenly pounding. "Yeah, probably."

She took a deep breath. "So, um… what you said to me, after I got shot…"

"Oh. Uh, you remember that?" he asked. Oh god. Why had he thought saying that was a good idea? Ohgodohgodohgod.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "But, um…" She blew out a breath, before meeting his eyes sadly. "I can't."

Rick physically felt his heart breaking. Can't break up with Josh. Can't be in a relationship with you. Can't love you. Honestly, he didn't care which she meant; they all essentially meant the same thing. All he knew was that he had to get out of there. Now.

"Right," he said, trying to smile. All he managed was a grimace. He stood up. "Well then, I should probably go."

"Wait, what?" Kate asked, surprised. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He wasn't supposed to leave. But there he was, walking to the door.

Crap. _Crap._

"Wait!"

Momentarily forgetting her condition, she made to swing her legs out of bed so she could follow him and force him to see reason. But then the pain in her chest hit her like a brick wall, and she felt as though she'd inhaled a ball of fire. She couldn't stop the groan that escaped her, and to make matters worse, Rick was nearly at the door.

"Rick," she said quietly, her voice strained from both the pain in her chest and the thought of losing him. "Please."

To her immense relief, he stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't turn around, though.

She sighed. "Look, I didn't—" God, was she really about to say this? If there was any chance that it would make him stay, absolutely. "I didn't run after you last summer because I was stupid. But now I physically can't. Please," she said, silently cursing her eyes for filling with tears, "please just hear me out."

Finally – _finally_ – he turned to face her. "Last summer?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed hard. "Yeah."

Sighing heavily (and swallowing a lot of pride), he returned to the chair he'd just vacated.

"Thank you," she said softly. Taking a deep breath, she began. "I can't be in a relationship with you because I can't be in a relationship with _anyone_ right now."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Right, because Josh is—"

"History."

He was completely taken aback. He'd thought she was being facetious and trying to let him down easy, so he was going to say 'because Josh isn't anyone, right?' with as much sarcasm as he could possibly muster. But…

He raised his eyebrows yet again, this time genuinely confused. "What?"

She sighed. "I broke up with him last night. He came by after you left."

"Oh." He paused. "You okay?"

"It was a long time coming," she said, smiling sadly.

He nodded. If she didn't need his sympathy, he was going to focus on the more important issue at hand. "So, um…"

"Right," she said, staring hard at her fingers, which she was twisting in her lap. "I just… I have a lot to deal with right now. I mean, with the situation with Royce so recently, and all this new stuff about my mom's case, and Montgomery…" she swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "And yeah, it'd be nice to have the support system that a boyfriend provides, but a relationship has to be a two-way street." She met his eyes, silently pleading with him to understand. "I can't give that right now. I have to focus on myself. Being in a relationship right now wouldn't be fair to anyone involved. So it's not…" she took a deep breath, "it's not because I don't want to."

He was silent for a few moments, and Kate silently cursed herself. Had she just missed her chance _again_?

"So that's… that's what I had to say," she finished quietly. "You can go if you want to."

"I could," he agreed. "But if I stay…?"

"If you stay," she said, hoping she didn't sound as hopeful as she felt, "then you'll be the first to know when I'm finished dealing with my psychoses."

He chuckled. "How could I say no to an offer like that?"

"Really," she said softly, "You don't owe me anything. You don't have to wait."

He sighed, and tentatively took her hand. "I will wait happily if I have something to wait for."

She smiled shyly. "You do. I mean," she added hastily, "If you think I'm – uh, if you meant what you… uh… damnit!" she burst out angrily. "I hate talking about this stuff!"

Rick laughed happily. "Doesn't everyone?"

Kate chuckled, feeling immensely lighter and legitimately happy for the first time in far too long. "Crazier things have happened."

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement. He paused for a beat. "So, um… you are, by the way."

"What?"

"Worth waiting for."

She flushed, and couldn't stop the grin that followed. Good god, she was in trouble.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

If there was anything that Kate was sure of, it was that her head was a dangerous place to be, especially at a time like this. She was extremely glad that Rick stayed with her for the entire day, because it gave her precious little time to think about him. As bizarre as she knew this was, being with him grounded her to reality. Had he left, she'd be left with just the memory of his smile and twinkly eyes, and her imagination. And that's where the real problem starts.

Nonetheless, she made him leave around dinnertime.

"So, what, you can sit here by yourself until you fall asleep?" he protested.

"Castle, I appreciate that you want to stay, but really," she reasoned, "you have Alexis—"

"Who is seventeen and perfectly able to take care of my mother for the evening."

She chuckled. "I don't doubt Alexis's abilities. But just because I'm forced to stay here doesn't mean you are."

"Yeah it does," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She glared at him. "You're going to make me feel bad. Come on," she said, softening. "You have a life outside of this room, and I can handle some time by myself. I'm a big girl."

He eyed her for a moment, and she could see the cogs turning in his head. After a moment, he stood up. Finally, he sighed and stood up. "Okay, you make a fair point."

It was her turn to eye him. "I'm disappointed, Castle."

He paused. "What?"

"I say 'I'm a big girl' and you don't even bat an eye? No inappropriate jokes?"

He looked surprised at himself. "Wow, I must be losing my touch. Although, this is a time of great emotional upheaval. Give it a day."

She chuckled. "Okay. Come back tomorrow and do your worst."

He grinned evilly. "Oh, I will."

And in a burst of maniacal laughter, he was gone. And she was grinning. Shot in the chest and grinning. She shook her head in disbelief. That man.

That man and his damn smile and twinkly eyes. _Crap_.

She was absentmindedly stroking Beckett the Panda and desperately wishing she had one of Castle's books to read when there was a soft knock on the door. She was a bit surprised when her dad poked his head in.

"How's my favorite daughter?"

She grinned. "Hey dad."

Jim stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Once safely out of the sight of any hospital employees, he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small container of Ben and Jerry's ice cream and a plastic spoon. He held it up. "Brought you some contraband."

She gasped and held out her good hand. "Best dad ever!"

He smiled and handed it over. "Well, someone seems happy."

She shot him an understanding look as she fumbled with the lid. "I know. It's weird, isn't it? Help?" she asked, handing the ice cream back to her dad.

He opened it easily, having the use of both of his hands, and gave it back to her, watching her dig in eagerly (though awkwardly, having to use her non dominant hand). "Cute panda."

"I know, isn't he? His name's Beckett. He has his own children's book series." She closed her eyes and hummed in satisfaction, savoring a mouthful of ice cream. "I swear, I don't know how I'm going to survive my stay here. Hospital food leaves much to be desired."

"Happy _and_ chatty?" Jim asked in disbelief, sitting down in the chair Rick had inhabited all day. "Who are you and what have you done with my bedridden daughter?"

Kate rolled her eyes, but failed in hiding her smile. "Castle was here today."

Jim shot her a look that clearly said 'tell me something I don't know.' "Sweetie, I'd fall out of my chair if you told me he _wasn't_ here."

"True," she conceded with a faint blush. "But we kind of had some things to work out…"

"I know," he said. "Rick told me you two fought."

Her jaw dropped. "He told you?"

"Sitting in the waiting room during your surgery was quite the bonding experience," he quipped.

"Huh," she said, still a bit flabbergasted. "Well then, you know I was a total idiot and a complete bitch to him?"

"No, see, in the version _I_ heard, you were completely in the right and your charming tag-along was the idiot."

Kate met her father's eyes and saw humor sparkling in them.

"He thought he was being an idiot?" she asked in disbelief. "But everything he said was true."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you two talked?"

She blew out a breath. "Quite sure. We had… something else to talk about. That was a little more pressing."

"Uh huh…" he said slowly. "Is this 'something else' responsible for that blush I see?"

Kate cursed under her breath. "Maybe."

He chuckled. "But if that 'something else' is also what's making you so chipper, I have to assume things went well. You two getting married yet?"

She choked on her mouthful of ice cream. "Dad!"

Jim grinned. "What?" he asked innocently. "Too soon?"

"We're not even dating!" she stated indignantly. But the smile that escaped told a different story.

He raised an eyebrow, smiling himself. "Care to finish that thought?"

She bit her lip, fully grinning now. "Yet."

"And why, may I ask, is there a 'yet' tacked on?"

She sighed. "Dad, I'm a mess. And I've only been single for a day. Starting a relationship now would be so wrong on so many levels."

"Always the wise one, my Katie," Jim said affectionately.

She smiled at the compliment, but shrugged and looked down at her ice cream. "It sucks though," she mumbled. "Such bad timing…"

"What's bad timing?"

She paused. "He told me he loves me, dad."

Jim looked a bit surprised for a moment, but smiled. "He's got guts, that one. But it's about time one of you is honest about your feelings."

Again, Kate choked on her ice cream. "Dad!"

He laughed. "What? It doesn't take a genius to see it."

She narrowed her eyes. "It sounds like you're on his side."

"I am. I like him."

She gaped at him. "Says the man who's tried to scare away every single one of my boyfriends since my prom date."

He waved her off. "Oh please, you like him more than I do!"

She opened her mouth to protest, purely on instinct, but closed it almost immediately.

"It's true," Jim said with a grin. "I think I just won."

Kate glared at him.

"All I'm saying," Jim said, standing up and taking his daughter's empty ice cream container, "is that Rick's a good egg. So the timing may be wrong, but the man isn't."

"I know, dad," she said quietly.

He smiled lovingly at her. "Just make sure this 'yet' business isn't indefinite, okay? No time is ever going to be perfect. And it just might kill him."

She chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

He kissed her head. "See you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too," she said.

She watched her dad go, marveling that her hypothetical future relationship with Castle had just gotten her father's blessing. She blew out a breath. _That man._

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><p>AN: I love Jim Beckett. Can he be a recurring character, please?  
>So I haven't been getting a ton of reviews for this story, but the story alerts keep pouring in. I'm not sure what to make of it, lol. Not complaining, though! Feedback is feedback is feedback, so keep it comin'!<p> 


	4. I'll Be There For You

A/N: Hmm, I don't think I have much to say here for a change, except that I'm super jealous of everyone that went to Comic Con; I'm still making up everything to do with medicine/recovery/hospitals in this story; thank you so much for all the lovely feedback; and I'm trying to write two chapters ahead of what's posted, so that's what's causing the delay. Okay, so maybe I did have a few things to say. :P

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><p><em>Chapter 4 - I'll Be There For You<em>

_I'll be there for you  
>These five words I swear to you<br>When you breathe, I want to be the air for you  
>I'll be there for you<em>

Why were there so many people gathered around her?

Kate could make out Ryan and Esposito, and Lanie, all looking down mournfully at her as she lay in bed. There was also… her neighbor? And that weird professor from college? What the hell was going on? She turned her attention to those closest to her, and was relieved to see her dad, who was standing arm in arm with… her mom. Okay, something was definitely wrong. She tried to sit up, but found that she couldn't.

"It's a shame," said Captain Montgomery (when had he gotten there?). "She had so much to live for."

Wait, she was _dead_? She tried to speak, to tell them that she wasn't dead, she was fine, but couldn't make a sound.

And then Castle was there, and he was saying "I loved you," and the fact that it was past tense broke her heart. She struggled, wanting to scream, desperate to make him realize that _she wasn't dead_, that she'd love him too if she could just be given the chance.

But suddenly he changed and she was staring into the cold eyes of Hal Lockwood. Somehow she knew that he knew she was alive. He was looking at her and laughing at her struggle to communicate, which only made her struggle harder. It was with a great surge of fear that she watched him pull out a gun. He pointed it at her chest and—

Kate awoke with a gasp, her healing bullet wound stinging painfully. Slumping back into her pillow, she closed her eyes as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. This particular dream had started becoming a nightly occurrence, and she was getting a bit fed up with it. She assumed it would bother her more if she didn't know what it meant, but she was more than aware of what was causing it. In the first few days following her shooting, she'd just been glad that she wasn't dead. But now, two weeks later, her focus had turned to the fact that she's alive. Alive, and with a sniper still out there somewhere.

She sighed heavily. It had been a long two weeks. Her friends and father had be in and out constantly, for which she was immensely grateful, but that didn't change the fact that she'd been confined to her stupid hospital bed for the entire time. She didn't hate hospitals any more than the average person, but Kate Beckett was not one to be idle, and this level of inactivity, she was sure, was going to drive her up a freaking wall. She'd had everyone that dropped by bring her books, Jim had brought her a journal at her request, and she'd watched more food-based competition reality shows than she'd ever had any desire to watch in her life.

Needless to say, she was itching to get home. Dr. Ohlsen had said today was the day she'd be allowed out, and she couldn't be more excited.

Okay, Kate conceded, that was a lie. She was dreading living with her arm in a sling for two months. She was a tiny bit afraid that her would-be killer was still at large. And she knew that being out of work for two months was going to be one hell of a project. But either way, better to deal with that junk at home than in this dingy white room. She sighed again. It's times like these when she wished she didn't live alone.

She whiled away the next few hours until daybreak by trying (and failing) to go back to sleep, and even managed to smile as the nurse brought her breakfast. Hell, it was her last day eating this garbage, might as well be cheerful about it. But still, she merely poked at her rubbery eggs and tried not to brood too much.

Castle arrived at around 9 (he always seemed to be her first visitor of the day), and she pushed her breakfast tray away, eager for the distraction.

"Hey," she said, glad for a reason to smile.

He grinned back at her. "Hey yourself. You ready to be sprung from this joint?"

She chuckled. "I'm ready to eat a meal that doesn't taste like a man-made substance at the very least," she said, nodding at her neglected breakfast.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Listen, I was thinking…"

"Uh oh," she said, raising an eyebrow. "That tends to be cause for concern for me."

He made a face at her, but continued. "You're going to be in a sling for two months. Have you asked anyone to help you out at home?"

She blinked; he truly sounded concerned. "No, Castle, I can manage."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Maybe because it's true."

"Well, consider this me volunteering."

"I told you, I can manage."

He sighed. "Beckett, you won't be able to use your right arm for _two months_."

"Yes, I'd forgotten, thanks for reminding me," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He glared at her. "You need someone to stay with you to help you out."

"No, I don't."

"So how do you plan on cooking? Or cleaning? Or doing laundry? Or, I don't know…" he paused, pretending to think, "doing anything involving the use of two arms?"

She glared at him, but didn't answer.

Rick looked at her imploringly. "You know I'm right."

She waged a massive internal battle with herself for a few seconds before answering. "Okay, you're right," she said very fast, as if trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. "But I'm not asking someone to stay with me for two months, and there's no way in hell I'm hiring someone."

"I already told you, I'm volunteering," he said. "You didn't ask me to, so your conscience is clear. It's a win-win!"

She was shaking her head before he'd finished his sentence. "Uh uh. I cannot allow you to sleep on my couch for that long." A flicker of a smile crossed her face. "You're too old for that."

He gasped theatrically. "Rude!"

"But true."

"Probably," he conceded, "But I'm willing to suffer."

"But I'm not willing to live with the guilt of knowing I'm the cause of your future chronic back problems."

"Fine, then you can stay with me."

A ringing silence followed his words. Granted, Kate hadn't wanted to live alone for the next two months, but she hardly dared believe what he was offering. It was almost too good to be true. No, scratch that, it _was_ too good to be true. But… was it? There's no way he could've properly thought this through.

She raised her eyebrows. "For two months?"

"Yes."

"You're a little bit insane, you know that, right?"

"You've stayed with me before," he pointed out logically.

"Yes," she said with the air of someone explaining something to a five-year-old, "But that was when your mother was living with Chet. Your apartment has three bedrooms, correct? All of which are currently occupied."

"And that, detective, is where you're wrong."

"Excuse me?"

Rick smiled at her mild indignation at being told bluntly that she's wrong. "Alexis and my mother left for the Hamptons this morning. So if you do the math, that leaves two of the three bedrooms currently unoccupied until early August."

Kate was a bit taken aback. "Wait, you didn't go?"

"No," he said in the same patient tone of voice she'd used on him mere moments before, "My partner is recovering from a bullet to the chest. If you think I'm leaving the city to go on vacation, I'm going to have to ask a doctor to see if the bullet somehow affected your brain as well."

She felt a flush creeping up her neck. "Thanks," she said quietly, cursing herself for not being able to think of something more eloquent to say.

He smiled. "So, returning to the business at hand. Two open bedrooms to choose from, both of which belonging to someone I know would have absolutely no qualms with you staying there."

Kate chewed her bottom lip, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. She knew it was probably a very poor decision to voluntarily move in with the man she wasn't in a relationship with only because of poor timing. But, she reasoned, staying with him wouldn't mean sleeping in his bed. His apartment was big enough for ten people to live in it; she would have plenty of space to work out her issues… and plenty of opportunity to spend time in his company if she wanted it. That's the best of both worlds, isn't it?

"And," he offered, "they're both on an entirely different level of the loft than my bedroom, so you can feel perfectly safe that I won't try and… try something. Not that I would anyway," he added, straightening his shirt in a dignified sort of way.

"Alright," she conceded, deciding to speak before she changed her mind, "alright, I will stay with you. But," she said threateningly, brandishing a finger at him, "conditions."

He grinned. "Shoot."

"If I need help, I will ask for it. Do _not_ treat me like a patient. Or a guest, for that matter. I may not be able to do much with this stupid thing," she gestured to her sling-bound arm, "but I will contribute what I can, like any other _roommate_."

"Done."

"I don't like being as sedentary as I'm going to be forced to be, so I'll probably be a bit bitchy for awhile. Don't take it personally."

He chuckled. "I'm rather resilient, in case you haven't noticed."

She smirked, and continued. "And you're going to call Martha and Alexis and ask if it's okay if I stay in one of their rooms before any of this happens."

He grinned. "Is that the worst you're gonna throw at me?"

She paused, thinking. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Excellent," he said, leaning back in his chair in a satisfied sort of way. "We'll stop by your apartment when they cut you loose, so you can grab what you need."

"Lots of sweats, and button-down shirts," she said, looking down at her arm. "Can't raise my arm enough to get it into anything else." Rick winced sympathetically. "And no blow dryer… or straightener… or curling iron," she continued thoughtfully. "Hair is a two-arm job. Wow, I'm going to be a mess for two months. Hope you didn't think I'd be looking good," she joked bitterly.

"As if you could look anything less than beautiful," he said quietly.

She felt her stomach contort into a funny shape. She shyly smiled her thanks, but nonetheless, muttered, "Watch me."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

And he did. He watched her as he helped sweep the old, wilting bouquets of flowers into the garbage. He watched her as she emerged from the bathroom dressed in her own clothes at last, and gently tucked Beckett the Panda into the overnight bag Jim had brought her. He watched her as Jim wheeled her out to his car, and couldn't help but grin as she jumped out of it without a helping hand.

He watched her as she clumsily removed her clothes from their drawers and hangers because she stubbornly refused his help. He watched her as she dumped all perishable food in her fridge, laughing as she wrinkled her nose and plucked cheese off the shelf with only the tips of her index finger and thumb. He watched as she bid her apartment goodbye, unable to read her emotions as she hesitated on the threshold and gave it one last swift glance.

She was still beautiful as he led her into his apartment and up to Alexis's room, where she'd be living for the next two months.

"Obviously I wasn't expecting this room to have a new occupant when I told Alexis to strip her bed before she left this morning," Rick said, gesturing to the bare mattress as he set Kate's suitcase on the floor next to the dresser. "She told me there was some room in some of her drawers – ah!" he said, pulling a few open and peeking inside. "Yep, you'll have to divide your stuff up, but that's probably preferable to living out of a suitcase."

She chuckled. "It doesn't matter, I'm low maintenance."

"After a lifetime of dealing with high maintenance women…" he sighed contentedly, "that is music to my ears. This living arrangement is going to work out rather nicely."

She grinned, quite amused. "Don't count your chickens, Castle."

"No, not my chickens, just my sanity." She laughed, and he grinned. "I'm gonna go and get you sheets and such."

He allowed himself to worry a bit as he pulled a sheet, blanket, and pillowcase out of the linen closet. Kate seemed a little uncomfortable, he thought. Probably understandable, considering she had just recently gotten shot and all, but it's not like she'd never been in his apartment before. She was quiet as he returned to the room and made up the bed. It wasn't until he was finished that she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

He straightened up and turned to look at her. "For what?"

She sighed. "That you had to do that for me. For being helpless."

It was his turn to sigh. "You're not helpless." She fixed him with a disbelieving glare, and he continued. "Helplessness is a mindset. I know plenty of people who are helpless and have two functioning arms."

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment, and he slowly made his way towards her; half a room away was much too far. "I just feel like I'm going to be a _huge_ inconvenience," she said in a low voice.

He slipped his hand into hers, and she looked up at him. "I promise you," he said, "I would not have invited you here had I thought it would be an inconvenience."

She smiled slightly, looking almost sad. "But the problem is that you sometimes tend not to really think before you do things."

"Okay, but what I think," he said, giving her hand a squeeze, "is that there's not a damn thing you could do – or couldn't do, I guess – that would make you inconvenient. I _think_ that you needed someone to be there for you, and I'll be damned if I was going to flake on you now. And I _think_ that I'm really going to like having you all to myself," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, but squeezed his hand in return.

And if there ever was a more beautiful sight on this earth, he'd eat his laptop.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope my dream sequence wasn't too terribly cliche! lol. Reviews make my day! ;)


	5. The More Things Change

A/N: Have I mentioned how much I love the reviews you leave for me? 'Cause I dooooo! :)

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><p><em>Chapter 5 - The More Things Change<em>

_The more things change the more they stay the same  
>The same sunrise, it's just another day<br>If you hang in long enough they say you're comin' back  
>Just take a look, we're living proof and baby that's a fact<em>

As Kate unpacked her bag, she wondered vaguely what was going to happen when she was done. Up until this point, she and Rick had been on familiar footing. She'd stayed with him before, and they'd certainly spent hours with just each other for company. But once she was done moving herself in… well, she didn't really have much else to do. That would be new for them. They very rarely (if ever) spent time together with no distractions. It was always to work, or to see a movie, or to discuss something in particular, or something of the sort. And there was always a definite end in sight. Even when she'd lived with him for a few days, they'd barely spent any time actually living together; Agent Shaw's kidnapping saw to that. But now? Now Kate was facing a minimum of six weeks living in Rick's apartment with absolutely nothing to do. It was a terrifying thought.

So she tried to take her time. But then she realized that Rick would probably get suspicious and/or worried if she didn't come downstairs at some point, so she tried to take her time in a way that would make it seem like she wasn't taking her time. And then she realized she was being a complete idiot, and decided to unpack like a normal human being. She rolled her eyes at herself.

Being nervous and feeling weird was perfectly understandable, Kate mused as she neatly placed a stack of shirts in a half-empty drawer. She'd never lived with a man before. She'd been close several times, but had always been reluctant to go beyond keeping some essentials there and having a key. She wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe it was because she was fiercely independent, and valued her own time and space. Maybe it was because, deep down, she knew those relationships wouldn't work out, and sharing an apartment would make the breakup that much more difficult. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Just as she was about to take the first of her underwear out of her suitcase, Rick poked his head into the room.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "You need anything?"

"Nope," she said, hastily shoving her handful of underwear back into her bag. "I'm fine. Just getting settled."

"I thought so, but figured I'd offer my services. Let me know if you get bored." He spread his arms. "I'm here for your entertainment."

She raised a wry eyebrow. "Isn't that an Adam Lambert song?"

"I'd sing it for you if I thought you could handle my epic air guitar," he joked.

She smirked. "I think you'd be surprised at what I can handle. Now leave," she said, waving him out of the room. "I'm unpacking things of a sensitive nature."

He for a moment he looked as though she'd clubbed him over the head with a frying pan, as he always did when she flirted with him, but then narrowed his eyes. "You're so mean," he grumbled as he turned and slouched from the room.

She laughed, and resumed her unpacking. She hadn't brought much else besides clothes; there wasn't much she could do with the use of only one arm, and her non-dominant one at that. She wouldn't have to worry very much about hair and makeup for the near future. Considering her present company, she couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Deciding to reserve judgment on that situation for the time being, she placed her laptop on Alexis's desk. She peered into her bag one last time to make sure there was nothing in it that she was forgetting, and slid it under the bed. Done.

Kate straightened up and looked around the room. It was really lovely, very bright, yet warm and welcoming. She wondered if Alexis had decorated it herself, and made a mental note to ask Rick at some point. She chewed her lip, now faced with her dilemma, for real; what was she going to do now? Staying sequestered in her room sounded very tempting, but instead, she steeled herself, grabbed her journal and a pen, and headed downstairs.

From his position at the dining room table, Rick looked up from his laptop screen as he heard her on the stairs.

"What's that?" he asked, indicating the book in her hands.

She held it up. "Therapy."

He shot her a quizzical look. "Therapy?"

"I've been to enough sessions to last me a lifetime," she explained, reaching the lower level and walking over to the couch. "It's gotten to the point where I can be my own therapist if I just suck it up and answer my own questions honestly." She sat down and bent her legs so her knees stuck up in front of her, and propped her journal open on her thighs. "It helps if I write down my stream of consciousness. I can't really hide from myself if my answers are written down."

"Wow, I'm impressed," he said, truly sounding it. "Don't you want to sit at a table for that?"

"Can't," she answered, wiggling the fingers of her sling-bound right hand. "This is the only way I can write without moving my arm too much."

"Oh, true. Well, I'm glad y_ou_ think of these things at least."

She chuckled. "So what are you up to over there?"

"Work," he said with a sigh, turning back to his computer to gaze contemplatively at the screen.

"Story trouble?"

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly, rubbing his chin. "I haven't done any writing in awhile, and I'm not really feeling as inspired about this plot as I was before."

"Oh," she said, feeling slightly guilty; she knew she was a big part of the reason why he hadn't been writing. "Well, let me know if you need any help. Nikki and I go way back."

He chuckled, eyes still on his screen. "That's right, I now have my muse at hand 24/7."

"Castle."

"What?"

"What have I told you about using the m-word?"

He tore at his eyes to look at her over the top of his screen, grinning. "I know, I know, broken legs, yada yada…"

"Oh, don't think I'm not serious," she said threateningly, opening her journal and rifling through to the next blank page.

"Why do you have such a problem with being called a muse?" he asked, tapping away at his keyboard. "I mean, they were goddesses."

"Hmm," she said, tapping her pen against her mouth. "I don't know. It just feels very antifeminist to be called a muse. And maybe because I am very thoroughly human."

"Okay, so you can be a modern-day muse!"

She chuckled. "How about we stick with 'inspiration' and leave it at that?"

"Fine," he said, sounding more amused than upset at conceding the argument, "I'll pick my battles."

She looked over at him to find him grinning at her, and stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to her journal. She couldn't help but grin as she heard him laugh.

They spent the next few hours sitting in companionable silence, broken only by the clacking of a keyboard and the scratching of a pen. Rick kept sneaking glances at Kate; he couldn't help himself. She really was annoyingly beautiful, even when she couldn't apply makeup or properly do her hair. She seemed completely absorbed in whatever it was she was writing, occasionally gnawing at the inside of her cheek, her forehead permanently creased. He sighed. Well, at least his descriptions of Nikki in this book would be particularly vivid, even if his progress was slowed because he was gawping at her so much.

"You okay?"

He started, and looked over at her. She was gazing at him over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, fine," he answered. "Why?"

"That wasn't the sigh of a man that's fine."

"Oh," he said, pausing slightly. "Am I really that transparent?"

She smirked. "You're transparent, and I read people for a living."

"Ah, the perfect storm of getting caught in a lie."

"Indeed," she said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a half-annoyed, half-concerned look that did funny things to his insides. "Now why are you lying about being fine?

He hesitated, running his thumbnail in the groove around his keyboard. What could he even say? What was actually bothering him? "It's just…"

She shifted so she was facing him, and put her good arm on the back of the couch, resting her chin on the back of her hand.

"I don't know if I know," he mused, gazing absentmindedly at nothing in particular. "I just feel like everything's changed, and I don't… know if that's a good thing yet."

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

He pondered his answer for a moment. "Shit hit the fan," he answered bluntly.

She looked taken aback for a moment, but laughed. "This is true."

He smiled, taking solace in the fact that she agreed, and continued. "I haven't really had time to process it, but its slowly starting to sink in. I mean, Montgomery's dead, and really wasn't who we thought he was. So that's the entire precinct dynamic that may or may not be shot to hell. And then, of course, we're…"

He stopped. What exactly were they? Well, that was kind of the point, wasn't it? He hadn't really known what they were beforehand, but now, they'd talked about it and taken a step closer to being something else, which left them… where? It was all just maddening and confusing, and he hadn't realized how much it was bothering him until Kate had prompted him to talk about it.

Correctly reading into his silence, she smiled a little bit awkwardly. "Yeah. We are."

A terrible thought struck him. "I don't want you to think I'm laying blame, though," he said hurriedly. "I _completely_ get why things have to be the way they are right now, and I'm not trying to put pressure on you or make you feel guilty."

"I know," she said, smiling slightly. "I get it. It's weird. I agree."

"And not even weird in that it feels like our dynamic is changed," he said, relieved that they were on the same page. "Ya know? I feel like we're still us. But at the same time…"

"We're so not," she agreed.

"Exactly. I think it's just the knowledge of what is going to be, but isn't yet, is just…" He chuckled. "I've never made the leap and not immediately known the outcome. It's like being stuck just beyond the drop of a roller coaster."

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment as she looked at him. "I really am sorry."

"I appreciate the sentiment," he said, shooting her a smile that made her blood fizz in her veins and leaning back in his chair. "But don't be."

A moment passed in silence as she ran a loose thread from the couch between her fingers. "I think I know the feeling you just described, though. And it's a royal pain in the ass."

His eyebrows twitched upwards. "You know it?"

She nodded. "When I was seventeen, I had the biggest thing for a guy in my calculus class." She smiled in an embarrassed sort of way. "I was always terrible at math, and he was sweet and helped me with my homework."

"Ah yes," he sighed, smiling knowingly. "I think we've all been there."

She chuckled, and continued. "Well, I'd never asked a boy out before, but somehow Maddie convinced me that I should make the first move."

"And you did?"

"I did."

"And what happened?"

"He said he had to think about it," she said, rolling her eyes.

Rick wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Poor kid," he said ruefully. "That poor, stupid kid. So what happened?"

"Well, I moped, as any self-respecting teenager that just got indirectly rejected would."

"Quite understandable."

"But after a day I came to my senses and realized that if he had to think about it, he didn't deserve to be moped about."

He grinned. "Kick-ass, even at seventeen. Why am I not surprised?"

She shot him a look that was half amused, half flattered. "And when he came to me a week later and said yes, I got to reject him for real. And can I say, it was _obnoxiously_ satisfying. Though unfortunately, my calculus grade kind of took a hit after that debacle."

"That's a shame," he said with a chuckle, waving airily, "but you seem to have turned out just fine."

She raised a wry eyebrow. "Clearly, since I'm now doing the exact same thing to you, minus the academic consequences."

"No, just professional consequences," he said with a cheeky wink.

She groaned and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. "As if I didn't feel bad enough already." She heard him laughing, and looked up.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, pressing his hand to his mouth to stifle his mirth. "It was just too easy."

She tried to glare at him. "Are you finished being an ass now?"

"I can try."

"Good. Anyway," she said pointedly, "like I was saying, I feel terrible – slightly less terrible now than I did five minutes ago, you jerk, but terrible nonetheless – that I'm now doing the same thing to you. But I _am_ glad that you seem to have less sense than I did and aren't running away screaming."

His eyes sparkled, and she wondered vaguely how she wasn't a melted puddle of goo on the floor. "This isn't even close to the same situation. But I think this is the first time I've been told I have no sense in a complimentary way, so thank you."

"I didn't say _no_ sense, just less than my seventeen-year-old self," she said, tilting her head and shooting him what she hoped was a winning smile. Judging by the look on his face, she assumed she was successful. "But by all means, continue."

"The brilliant calculus idiot didn't give you an answer and still expected you to hang around," he said matter of factly. "But you did give me an answer." He grinned, and looked so boyish and adorable that Kate seriously considered throwing all her better judgment out the window. "You said yes."

"I technically said not right now," she pointed out, trying desperately to banish all dangerous thoughts to a well-hidden corner of her mind.

He shrugged good-naturedly. "That's a 'yes' all the same, though, isn't it? Just delayed a bit."

"True. But I mean, it does have the word 'not' in it…"

He leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I won't tell if you won't."

She bit her lip, pretending to think about it, before a grin cracked her face. "Deal."

"Good," he said, the sly smile on his face belying his serious tone. He snapped his laptop shut and stood up. "Now, how about dinner?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Chicken parmesan?"

"Sure. But," she added as an afterthought, "if I'm going to be sedentary for the foreseeable future… how about we throw a salad into the mix?"

"A salad?" he sighed. "Lame."

"Don't you want me to still look like this when we—"

"Salad it is."

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><p>AN: Beckett using a journal as therapy = me wanting to spend time writing scenes other than her sitting on a shrink's couch. Fun fact of the day! Haha. Leave a review and make a girl smile!


	6. Everybody's Broken

A/N: Ugh, can you believe it's mid-August already? My classes start in a week and a half! NOT COOL! Right now, I'm still doing my summer internships, plus all the duties that come with being a section editor of a college newspaper have started up, PLUS I still have to pack for school, and try to have a social life. So this story is truly becoming a labor of love, lol. But I'm determined to get it finished before season 4 starts! :)

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><p><em>Chapter 6 - Everybody's Broken<em>

_It's so hard to believe  
>It's easier to doubt<br>You're trying to hold in  
>But you're dying to scream out <em>

He should've expected it, really. But things had been going so well that he'd started to hope that maybe they'd stay that way.

Kate had been living with him for almost a week now, and Rick had honestly been surprised at how easily their lives seemed to fit together. He'd thought that she'd be an early riser, because he knew that's how she normally was, but was shocked out of his mind when she came stumbling down the stairs after 9:00 on the first morning. She'd looked at him, sitting there wide awake and on his second cup of coffee, and shrugged sheepishly. He'd finally managed to time his own wake-up just right, and just this morning was preparing her coffee for her precisely as she entered the kitchen. The rest of their days continued rather leisurely, and they did their own thing, or not. One day they barely crossed paths, but another day they spent working through Rick's rather sizeable DVD collection, laughing and flicking popcorn at each other. He would cook dinner every evening, while she sat on a barstool in the kitchen and was in charge of music. They ate together, and evenings were spent in a similar fashion as the rest of the day. Not a problem, not a hitch.

Except for her sling and the time she had to spend in the bathroom changing her bandages, Rick was almost able to forget that she'd been shot.

Tonight, Kate had headed upstairs several hours previously, but he'd been on such a roll with his writing that he'd ignored his itchy eyes and chosen to work through his latest brainwave. He'd paused briefly, his fingers stalling on the keyboard, and he heard (what he assumed was) her bedroom door open and the bathroom door click shut.

As normal as things had been, he'd found himself being unnecessarily worried about her, constantly feeling the need to check on her and make sure she was okay. So he sat back in his chair and waited to hear her leave the bathroom and go back to bed. But the minutes ticked past, and the loft remained resolutely silent.

Rick felt his heart rate pick up slightly. Was he being ridiculous, or was something actually wrong? He cursed his writer's imagination as it quickly formed a list of the worst case scenarios completely against his will, but managed to convince himself to see reason. Whatever she was doing up there, it was her business.

But five minutes of silence later had his fingers tapping restlessly on the tabletop. Screw it. He was going up there.

He was up the stairs before he could convince himself otherwise, and felt mildly justified in his actions when he saw the sliver of light beneath the bathroom door. He stepped quietly down the hall, but was suddenly mystified as to what he was going to say. 'Hey, just checking on you!' or anything of the like would earn him a foot to the ass, and he rather liked sitting down and _not_ being in pain.

But he stilled in his thoughts as he approached the door and heard a noise from behind it. Pausing for a moment to try and decipher what it was, his eyes widened in horror as he realized – it was a sob.

_Shit._ He should've expected it.

Before he'd given his knuckles conscious permission to do so, they were rapping softly on the door. She might want to kill him for being nosy, or interrupting her when she wanted to be alone, or whatever, but he couldn't not. She was hurting.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and winced as he realized scaring the crap out of her had been rather inevitable.

"Kate?" he called softly.

There was a pause. "What, Castle?"

Her voice sounded thin and shaky, nowhere near the accusing tone she usually said those words in. His resolve strengthened. "What's wrong?"

He heard a slight sniffle. "Nothing."

"I'm not asking if there's something wrong. That much is clear."

Silence.

He sighed, and rested his forehead briefly on the door. "Can I come in?"

He waited with bated breath, and let it out in a huff when she responded with, "Why?"

Rolling his eyes, he answered. "To make callous jokes and be an ass, of course." He smiled when he heard what he thought sounded almost like a watery chuckle. He dropped the sarcasm. "Come on," he said softly. "Please let me in."

Her pause seemed to stretch for ages, but finally, Rick heard her sigh. "Okay. You can come in."

He took a deep breath, butterflies suddenly warring in his stomach, and turned the doorknob. He opened the door slowly and stepped inside. Kate was hunched over, leaning on her hand on the rim of the sink, her sling in a haphazard pile on the counter. Though her back was to him, her red-rimmed eyes found his in the mirror.

He swallowed hard. "Hey."

She sniffled. "Hey."

He smiled slightly. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?"

She gazed at him in a way that broke his heart, and tugged at the collar of her shirt. She was wearing what he'd deduced was her usual style of pajamas, leggings and an oversized, wide-necked T-shirt. As she pulled on the neck, it slipped down over her shoulder to reveal an angry red scar where the bullet had hit her.

Rick didn't know what to say. He didn't want to look at it, but found that he couldn't look away. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat. Nobody should have to deal with scars like that, especially the woman standing in front of him.

The corners of Kate's mouth quirked upwards very slightly at his speechlessness. "It's all just kind of hitting me now, ya know?" she said, wiping at her eyes and turning to face him, now leaning back against the sink.

"I was wondering when it would," he said softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She chewed on her lip for a moment, her eyes filling with tears. She shook her head, as if to say 'I can't' rather than 'no,' and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Rick crossed the room in two steps and soon had her wrapped in his arms, one hand at her back and the other threaded into her hair.

"I know," he murmured as she cried quietly against his shoulder. "I know."

Rick had never felt that he was particularly good at consoling a crying woman; actually, they normally kind of terrified him. He never knew what to say, or where to put his hands, and felt distinctly awkward about the whole affair. But now, all of that crap melted away, and it was just Kate. His Kate. He was more concerned with her emotions and making her feel better than he was about his awkwardness. It didn't make him any more sure of what he should do. He still didn't know if he should say something, or if rubbing her back was sticking a toe over the line, but words had never been their forte, and if the way she was clutching him was any indication, she didn't seem to mind what his hand was doing.

Her sobs ebbed after awhile, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she nestled herself more snugly against his neck, making him fear that his heart was going to explode from the combination of sadness for her and utter joy of having her so close.

After a few moments, he kissed the top of her head and loosened his hold on her, taking her hand instead. "Come on. Let's go sit down."

Kate nodded her acquiescence, still wiping fresh tears from her eyes, and he led her into the hallway and down the stairs. "I would've taken you to your room instead of all the way down here, but that would involve sitting on a bed, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of you," he said with a wink, attempting some levity. She granted him a watery smile, and allowed him to tug her down onto the couch and wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Rick wished this could've been happening under better circumstances. He loved the way her hand rested on his chest, and the way her warm breath felt on his neck, and the way she seemed to just fit perfectly against him. But he just couldn't find it in him to be happy about it, especially when she finally spoke.

"Have you ever—" her voice broke. She swallowed hard, and tried again. "Have you ever just wanted out of your own life?"

He tensed. "What? Do you mean—"

"No," she said softly, curling her fingers and straightening them again, scratching her fingernails comfortingly against his shirt. He relaxed a bit under her touch. "I don't mean that I want to die." He felt her smile slightly. "That ship has very recently sailed, wouldn't you say?"

He let out a breath. "So I don't need to remove all sharp objects and medications from the vicinity?"

She chuckled again, and shook her head. "No."

He hugged her closer. "So what _do_ you mean?" he asked, playing with the ends of her hair with the hand that was resting on her back.

She sighed, and wiped away a tear. "I just… sometimes I want out. I don't want to be me. I mean, I love my job, you know I do, and I can't imagine doing anything else, but… god, it just sucks sometimes." She took a shuddering breath. "I don't like being surrounded by death, I don't like grieving 24/7, I don't like everyone around me being serious and miserable, I don't like worrying about a man that wants to kill me, I don't like getting shot…"

"That makes two of us," Rick said softly, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"I hate putting people through the same junk that _I_ hate whenever I get hurt, ya know? I hate it when people worry about me as it is, without the threat of me dying. And as if my dad hasn't already been through enough!" She swallowed hard. "I see the look in his eyes whenever I'm in the hospital, I know what he's thinking, and I can't do a damn thing to help it because _it's a part of my job_." She said the last few words with an amount of venom that Rick hadn't thought she was capable of.

"And," she continued, "on a completely shallow and selfish note, knives and guns and fights, they all leave scars. I'm a girl, and I'm already self-conscious, and now I get to add these effing battle wounds to the mix." She laughed humorlessly. "Because worrying about if my abs are flat enough would be too easy! I get to worry about whether or not someone's going to notice a slice mark!"

Yet again, Rick didn't really know what to say. He settled for taking her hand that was resting on his chest and lacing his fingers through hers.

"Sorry," Kate muttered into his shirt. "I know we're not exactly putting on airs here, but I know how insanely attractive bitching is."

"Hey," he said, "if anyone deserves to bitch, it's you." He felt her smile, and she squeezed his hand. "Will you show me sometime?"

"What?"

"Your scars," he said quietly. "If you don't want to, I understand, but the one on your chest is the only one you've gotten since I came into the picture, and… I don't know. I hate imagining. I'd like to know."

After a brief pause, she dropped his hand and sat up, pulling away from him. He wanted to kick himself. "I'm so sorry if I went too far, I—"

He stopped speaking when he realized that she was lifting the hem of her t-shirt and tugging down the waistband of her leggings, exposing several inches of skin on her hip.

"This one's from my first year on the force," she said.

Rick leaned closer, and was able to make out a white, razor thin scar running diagonally down from the top of her hipbone and disappearing onto her lower abdomen. He reached out and touched his fingertips to it lightly before he even realized he was doing it. "What happened?" he asked around the lump in his throat. This might be harder for him than he'd realized.

"We were raiding a drug cartel in an abandoned warehouse," she said quietly, watching him as he continued to gaze intently at her scar, slowly running his fingers over it. "There was one guy there when we got there, and I guess he didn't want to go down without a fight. As soon as we were all inside, he jumped out with his Stiletto and just started swinging." She smiled wryly. "If I hadn't been wearing my vest—"

"_Please_ don't finish that sentence," he said, meeting her eyes.

She smiled for real this time, albeit a bit sadly. "Okay."

He took a deep breath. "Do they get worse than this?"

"Yeah." She showed him the bullet wound on her chest. "Right here."

"There's… there's nothing else—?"

"Nothing else particularly traumatizing?" She shook her head. "No. That's the worst of it."

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath and steeling himself.

"Hey," she said softly, putting a hand on his arm. "You don't have to do this. I won't be offended."

"No," he said, swallowing hard, "I want to."

She raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me."

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I don't _want to _want to, but I mean… you lived through it. I think I can handle hearing about it."

She smiled understandingly. "In that case…" she said, rolling up the bottom of her leggings on her right leg and twisting to show Rick the outside of her calf. "I got grazed by a bullet right there," she said, pointing to a faint white mark right below her knee.

Rick couldn't help it; he touched this one too. "Well, I guess being grazed is better than the alternative."

"Indeed," she said, smiling slightly. "Royce and I were responding to a call about an armed robbery, and when he tackled the guy, the gun went off. A couple of stitches later, I was fine."

"I'll bet Royce wasn't," Rick said with a chuckle.

"Quite correct," she answered with a chuckle of her own. "He attempted to wait on me hand and foot for about a week, so I was forced to kick the crap out of him when I was better. Gave him a couple of scars of his own."

He laughed, silently marveling at the wonders of gallows humor. "Any others I should know about?"

"Just here," Kate answered, tilting her head up and pointing at the bottom of her chin. "I tackled a guy and faceplanted."

He grinned and traced a finger along her jawline. "You're the only woman I've ever met that can speak so casually of smacking her face into concrete."

She made a face and swatted his hand away good-humoredly. "Well, when it comes to my line of work, I'd rather eat pavement than get shot."

An odd thought struck Rick at that moment; they were talking about the merits of the different ways of getting scars, but now she was smiling, and that gorgeous twinkle had returned to her eyes.

She noticed that he was looking her differently. "What?" she asked, suddenly a bit self-conscious.

He hesitated, but ultimately decided to say what was on his mind. "You have a really beautiful smile."

And he made a mental note to himself; if he ever wanted to see that smile, he now knew exactly what to say.

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><p>AN: Guys, I won't lie - I'm kind of proud of this chapter. :X It turned out almost exactly the way I wanted it to. So review and tell me what you think!


	7. This Is Love, This Is Life

A/N: ...Okay, so maybe moving into my dorm and the first week of the semester are not the most conducive writing conditions. Don't hate me!

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><p><em>Chapter 7 - This Is Love, This Is Life<em>

_When times get tough we're still worth the fight,  
>This is love, this is life.<br>The road here's paved with the brokenhearted  
>We've gotta finish what we've started<br>__Oh, better hold on tight  
>This is love, this is life. <em>

Kate awoke as abruptly as if someone had slapped her across the face, and immediately winced; evidently, sleeping slumped over on a couch wasn't the smartest idea. Not that she'd meant to, she mused, attempting to rub the crick out of her neck. It had been a total accident. Actually, she didn't even remember falling asleep, but she supposed she must've, because it was now obviously the morning and she was clearly not in her bed. Her couchmate was conspicuously absent, though.

She leaned back into the cushions and sighed, remembering what had happened the night before. She and Rick had remained on the couch long after she'd gotten over her slight mental breakdown, and she wasn't sure when or how it happened, but it was suddenly okay for her to be curled into his side. They hadn't been talking much, and she felt so comfortable and warm and safe and content… and the next thing she knew, golden light was filtering in through the windows, coffee was brewing in the kitchen, and the shower was running in Rick's bathroom – that must be where he'd disappeared to.

Some nameless warm emotion flickered in Kate's stomach as she thought about their conversation the night before, and how he'd basically talked her off the ledge. She honestly couldn't have asked for anything more, and even that felt like an understatement. If she'd thought about it beforehand, she wouldn't have been able to say what would've made her feel better. But in retrospect, he'd done exactly what she needed, and she couldn't think of anything that she wished had gone differently. He'd been… she swallowed hard. He'd been perfect.

Oh god. This was such a problem.

She stood up slowly, trying not to torque her painfully smarting collarbone too much, and meandered over to the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee and slid onto a stool at the island, blowing lightly into her mug and trying not to think too much. Thinking always got her into trouble.

She heard the shower shut off, and several minutes later, Rick entered the kitchen, wearing one of those flannel shirts she loved so much and running his fingers through his wet hair.

Seeing her sitting there, he smiled and gave his hair a final ruffle. "Morning."

"Hey," she said with a smile.

"When I got up I was going to write you a note saying that I was in the shower and that there was coffee in the kitchen," he said, pouring himself a cup. "But I figured you can both hear _and_ smell, and could probably figure it out on your own."

"And look at that!" she said, holding up her coffee. "I did!"

"I can always count on that brain of yours," he said, grinning at her over his mug.

She rolled her eyes in amusement as he took a sip, and she cradled her mug in her hands. "So, um…"

"Uh oh," he joked. "Do all important conversations start like that?"

She glared at him as she fought a losing battle with a smile. "I was _going_ to thank you for last night, but if you're going to be mean about it…"

"No no no," he said hastily, sliding onto the stool next to her, "by all means, continue." He winked.

She rolled her eyes again, and took a deep breath. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Whatever you did, I needed it."

He smiled and tilted his head down, looking at her through his adorably mussed hair. "Well, whatever I did, I was making it up as I went along."

She giggled (_giggled?_). "Good to know that you don't use the 'show me your scars' line on every girl that cries on your shoulder."

"Yeah, that one doesn't really work out of context," he mused.

"No," she agreed mock thoughtfully. "Only when the girl in question's been shot in the chest."

He sighed and shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't know how you joke about it so easily."

She shrugged, chewing on her lip. "I sort of have to. Otherwise, last night happens."

"Next time," he said, putting a hand on her back, "_please_ tell me it's happening."

Kate met his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity there. Still, she couldn't help but be insecure. "Yes, because I know how much all men love comforting a crying woman."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rick said quietly. "You know I want to be there for you."

"No, I know," she said softly. "But that doesn't mean you enjoyed hearing my scar stories."

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But all it showed me is that you're a superhero."

She smiled sadly. "Rick, superheroes don't have scars."

"Maybe not the ones in comic books. But real life superheroes sure do," he said, squeezing her arm as he stood up to put their empty mugs in the sink.

She flushed. "I don't think—"

"Excuse me," he said seriously, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at her, the hint of a smile playing across his lips. "I cannot allow you to say disparaging things about my superhero."

She raised an eyebrow, still thoroughly flustered. "Even though it's me?"

"Especially because it's you."

She observed him silently for a moment. "You're doing it again."

Confusion creased his brow. "Doing what again?"

"Whatever it was you did last night."

Realization crossed his face, and he chuckled. "Well, it's good to know it wasn't a fluke."

"Oh, come on," she said, a coy smile slowly curving her lips. "You've been doing it since we met, let's be real."

He cocked his head in question.

"Why do you think Montgomery let you stick around for so long?" she asked, standing up. "The precinct is—" she stopped, and swallowed hard, "or was – his house, not the mayor's. He felt guilty about lying to me about my mom's murder for all those years, and decided to make it up to me by giving me you. He thought you'd be good for me. And ya know," she said, heading for the stairs but throwing a lingering look over her shoulder, "I think he might've been right."

It took a moment, but soon she heard him hurrying to catch up with her and felt his hand close on her wrist. She turned to face him, and he smiled almost nervously.

"As much as I'd like to click my heels and gloat about what you just said to me…" his smile faded. "Did Montgomery really do that?"

"Yeah. After we fought that night, I, uh…" she chuckled nervously, "I went to him trying to get rid of you, and he told me all of that. Well," she amended, "not the guilt part. That I sort of filled in on my own."

"So we were set up," he said thoughtfully, getting sidetracked for a second.

She nodded. "From the very beginning. And by the captain, no less!"

That jarred him back to the correct train of thought. "Right. So that means he had ulterior motives to keep me around. And while making you happy is always something I can agree with…" he slid his hand from her wrist to her fingers and gave them a slight squeeze, "Whoever the new captain is won't be invested in you."

"Uh huh…" she said slowly.

"Should I be worried about not being allowed to shadow you anymore?"

The fact that he did look genuinely concerned about that possibility warmed her heart. "Should you be worried that the new captain might not be inclined to want you around? Yes. But," she continued, forestalling the disappointed look on his face. "Should you be worried about not being allowed to shadow me anymore? No." She met his eyes and smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shower."

He let go of her hand, and again she turned and headed up the stairs. It might've been a little bit mean to make her escape on such a vague note, but she knew he'd be able to figure out what she meant. Sure, the new captain probably wouldn't want a civilian hanging around, at least at first. But the two of them had been through far worse and weathered far more problematic storms than a skeptical boss. Her face darkened. Let the new captain try to separate their team and watch what would happen. Hell would break loose; Kate would see to that. An ornery boss wouldn't break them up, not after everything.

Entering her room, she noticed her cell phone blinking on her nightstand, indicating that she had a new text. She picked it up to find a message from Ryan.

"_New captain's been assigned. Care to have three extra at dinner tonight? Pizza and beer on us."_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Alright, gentlemen," Rick said, placing his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "The time for pleasantries is over. Let's hear about this new captain."

They were lounging around the living room after having eaten dinner. The men were on the couch, while Lanie was in the armchair, Kate on the floor in front of her and leaning back against her knees; Lanie had taken pity on the fact that her friend was unable to do her hair, and was currently knuckle-deep in a French braid.

Ryan and Esposito glanced at each other.

"What do you want to know?" Esposito asked, moving his feet from their stretched out position on the coffee table to flat on the floor.

Rick shrugged. "What's he like?"

"Well," Ryan said with a smirk. "He's a she."

"It's a woman?" Kate asked in surprise, sitting forward and inadvertently pulling her braid out of Lanie's hands. Lanie let out a huff of disapproval.

Esposito nodded and took a swig of his beer. "Yep."

"So what's she like?" Rick asked again.

There was a pause as the boys considered how to answer, in which Lanie tugged Kate's head back to her and resumed her braiding.

"Well," Ryan said slowly. "She's…"

"Nothing like Montgomery," Esposito finished.

Ryan nodded. "She's from IA, and—"

"She's from IA?" Kate asked incredulously, making to sit forward again but being tugged backwards by Lanie's firmer grip in her hair. "What's she doing with us, then?"

Esposito shrugged. "Beats me. She doesn't even seem like she wants to be here."

"Then why is she?" Rick asked.

"Being made captain is a big deal," Ryan answered slowly, wrapping his fingers around his beer. "And it can lead to more promotions that are bigger deals."

"So," Kate said, "we're stuck with a captain who sees the job as a means to an end." She and Rick exchanged a glance. "Awesome."

"Her tenure is gonna be an interesting one," Esposito agreed. "So far it seems like she'd rather have people fear her than like her."

"Damn Macchiavelli," Rick muttered.

"Why, what's she done?" Kate asked.

"Well," Esposito said, "Rumor has it that she called Karpowski into her office and talked about maybe switching up her team."

This time, Lanie's hands were no match for Kate's indignation as she snapped upright, tugging her braid free yet again. "What?" she said sharply. "Karpowski's team is solid, there's absolutely no reason for her to move them around."

"We know," Ryan agreed. "We think she's making changes just for the sake of making changes. So people respect her out of fear."

Kate's stomach knotted, and she looked over at Rick. "She's gonna hate me," he joked, his serious eyes belying his tone of voice.

"She can shove it," Esposito said roughly.

"Absolutely," Ryan said seriously. "_None_ of us are going anywhere, not if we can help it."

Kate felt a surge of affection rise in her chest, and she smiled. Damn, did she love those boys. "Hear, hear!" she said, raising her beer in a toast and downing the last of it. She lowered her bottle to find Rick grinning at her.

"As much fun as all this shop talk is," Lanie said, "Kate, I think it's time we had some girl talk and let the men fend for themselves for a bit. You've been far too absent from my life."

Kate chuckled. "I don't disagree with that."

"Can I straighten your hair for you?" Lanie asked.

"Oh, I didn't bring my straightener here," Kate said sheepishly. "I can't really use it."

"Alexis has a spare in her bathroom somewhere," Rick piped up.

Lanie grinned, grabbed Kate's hand, and dragged her to the stairs.

"Jeez," Kate said with a laugh. "You're more excited to straighten my hair than I am to have it straight for the first time in almost a month."

"Uh, no," Lanie corrected, leading the way down the hall to the bathroom, "I'm excited to finally have a real conversation about these living arrangements you've got going on here." She peered into the cabinet under the sink, stuck her hand in and emerged with the straightener.

Kate sighed, amused. "Uh oh."

"Mmmmmhm."

Shaking her head, resigned, she lead Lanie across the hall and into her bedroom. Indicating that Lanie should plug the straightener into the outlet beside the nightstand, Kate sat down on the bed.

"Alright," she said. "Do your worst."

Lanie looked at her mildly incredulously. "Worst? I'm not gonna do 'worst,' I just need details! You're shacking up with Castle; you cannot expect me to be okay with being left in the dark!"

"True," Kate agreed, as Lanie began sectioning off her hair. "But I promise you, it's really not that interesting."

"Ugh," Lanie groaned. "Girl, do you know the definition of the word interesting?"

Kate chuckled. "I'm serious, we're very boring. And don't burn me with that thing!" she warned as Lanie picked up the iron.

"Oh shut up. Now talk."

Kate arched an eyebrow. "Do you realize what you just said?"

"Sweetie, don't mess with the woman with a hot straightening iron in one hand and your hair in the other."

"True," Kate said, looking dubiously at the section of hair currently having its curl wrestled out of it. "What do you want to know?"

Almost her entire head of hair was straight by the time Lanie was finished with her questions and Kate was finished regaling her friend with every detail she deemed appropriate to share. Upon hearing what had happened the night before, Lanie froze, seemingly struck dumb with shock.

"Lanie!" Kate yelped, watching steam emanate menacingly from the straightener. "My hair!"

Lanie jumped and hurriedly resumed her motions. "Sorry, but damn, girl!"

"I know, right?"

"Tell me you've jumped his bones already."

Kate glared daggers at her friend. "I'd really appreciate it if you stopped saying that."

Lanie sighed. "Alright. But seriously…"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lanie, because a mentally unstable basket case is at the top of every man's wish list."

Lanie chuckled. "Only when the wish list in question is Castle's, and the basket case in question is you."

"Okay," Kate said with a sigh, "But I'm resisting for both of our benefits right now."

"How on earth are either of you benefitting from not being together?"

"Because if we got together now, I wouldn't be able to be entirely open with what's going on in my head, because _I don't know what's going on in my head_." Lanie finished straightening the last section of hair, and Kate looked up at her. "Seriously, Lain, I'm not in the right place yet."

Lanie sat down next to her on the bed. "But you will be? You're not just avoiding the issue?"

Kate blushed as she thought of the way he'd touched her last night. "I most definitely will be."

* * *

><p>AN: "Show me your scars" is a little easter egg to my birthright trip. :) Yay. Review, pretty please? I PROMISE to (try to) write faster!


	8. Seat Next To You

A/N: THIS SEMESTER IS EATING MY LIFE. WAAAHHH. But, okay, I totally think I can still finish this on time. There are three more chapters, only one of which is unwritten, so if I bust my butt this week... I got this. YES. Don't mind me, just giving myself a pep talk.  
>But in other news, can we talk about how excited I am for the season 4 premiere? Because OH MY GOD.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 8 - Seat Next To You<em>

_Baby, I want you to take me  
>Wherever you're goin' to.<br>Baby, say that you'll save me  
>The seat next to you. <em>

"I'm going for a run."

Rick looked up from his laptop, confused. Kate had been lounging comfortably in the armchair in his office, reading a book as he worked, but was now standing up and heading for the door. He'd been completely engrossed in his writing and was sure, he hoped, that he hadn't heard her properly.

"Sorry, what?"

She paused in the doorway, and turned back to face him. "I'm going for a run," she repeated.

He raised his eyebrows. "No you're not."

She arched one of her eyebrows in response. "Watch me," she said curtly, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

In a flash, he was out of his chair and following her swiftly through the kitchen. "You can't be serious," he said in disbelief.

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?"

"But—but—" he spluttered, following her upstairs, "You're injured!"

"I don't need my arms to run," she answered evenly, as if she'd been expecting him to use that argument. "And the doctors say I'm healing fine."

"You can still tweak your collarbone while you're running."

"If it hurts, I'll walk. Now," she said, stepping inside her room, "pardon my closing the door in your face, but I need to change. And you're being annoying. Two birds with one stone." And she shut the door in his face.

He groaned and allowed his head to fall forward, hitting the door with what he hoped was a loud enough thunk to make her feel bad. "Beckett," he whined.

"Castle," she faux whined back to him, slightly muffled.

"I don't like that you're doing this."

"Ya know, I figured that one out already."

He groaned again. "Look, I'm expressing genuine concern here, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't respond with pure snark."

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "I know you are, and I appreciate it, but what I would _really _appreciate is being able to change my clothes without arguing with you about this."

So he fell silent and leaned backwards against the wall across from her room, arms crossed across his chest, waiting for her to emerge, not even close to finished arguing. She opened her door several minutes later, and didn't look remotely surprised to see him still standing there.

"This is a terrible idea," he said, following her back downstairs. "Not only is there the possibility of aggravating the injury you already have, but have you forgotten that you have a _sniper_ out there? A man that tried to kill you, and came very close to succeeding—"

She whirled around to face him. "Do you _think_ I've forgotten?" she asked sharply.

"I just don't know why you want to risk anything!"

"Do you realize I've barely been outside in three weeks?" she asked, her green eyes dark. "The last time I was outside of this apartment was the day I left the hospital. I'm starting to forget what fresh air feels like, and I'm tired of just sitting around every day."

"So crack a window, and go to the gym."

"Do you think this is funny?"

He wanted to yell, but mastered the impulse. "Quite the opposite actually," he said stiffly. "The idea of you running around the city, alone, with a killer after you scares the living shit out of me. What don't you understand about that?"

Her gaze softened. "I do understand," she said quietly. "It scares me too, which is why I have to do it. I have to get back out there. I can't let him win."

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, still unconvinced.

Kate took a step closer to him, and laid a hand on his arm. "There's been no evidence saying that he's still after me. And I can't hide forever."

He sighed, looking into her eyes that were pleading for him to understand, and felt something in him give way. "I'm not going to be able to stop you, am I?"

She chuckled, and shook her head. "Nope. I'm going with or without your approval. But truthfully, I'd like to have it," she added, crinkling her nose shyly. It made his heart feel like it was going to burst with happiness as he realized just how far they'd come when it came to communication. He could certainly get used to this whole honesty thing.

He hesitated, but resigned himself to the fact that he'd just have to deal with her decision. "Okay. But you're taking your phone with you and you're going to _call me_ if anything happens."

She gave him an amused half smile. "Okay."

"I'm serious," he said forcefully. "And I mean _anything_. If someone looks at you strangely, you call me. If anybody looks suspicious, you call me. If—"

"If I get shot, I call you?" she asked jokingly.

He glared at her. "Not funny. I mean it. If you get one of those weird gut feelings that something's wrong, even if nothing _seems_ wrong, _you call me_."

"Okay," she said placatingly, picking her phone up from the counter and slipping it into the armband that held her iPod. "If anyone blinks in my direction—"

"Kate," he nearly growled. "I'm serious."

She smiled softly. "I know. But there's no point in worrying yourself to death yet. Wait for my sniper to show his sorry ass, and then I give you full permission to want to lock me up in a tower somewhere, okay?"

He chuckled grudgingly, conceding that she had a point. "Okay. I'll hold you to that."

She shot him an amused look and turned away. "I'm out of shape, so I shouldn't be much more than half an hour."

His eyes traveled down her body, silently disagreeing with the whole out-of-shape thing, and he glanced at the clock to make a note of the time. "Keep in mind that I'll have a heart attack if you are."

She chuckled as she stepped into the hallway. "We can't have you going into cardiac arrest. I'll be timely."

Rick took a deep breath as she closed the door behind her, still deeply uneasy. _It's okay_, he thought with an amount of confidence he didn't quite feel. _She's a big girl, she can take care of herself._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kate took a deep breath.

And then another one.

_You can do this_.

She teetered on the balls of her feet just inside the door of the lobby, as if preparing to leap from a diving board. _You're being ridiculous_, she admonished silently. _Just step outside. You were all keen to do it five minutes ago._

And she was. She still was. But her confidence and resolve had weakened exponentially as the elevator descended to the ground floor. In hindsight, she'd made the decision to go out for a run completely on impulse, and the more she thought about it, the more doubt had time to creep in. What if her sniper really was still out there? Could he be waiting right outside the building, biding his time, poised for the moment she'd come outside?

She gave herself a mental shake. No, she was just being ridiculous. And with that thought in her mind, she pushed the glass door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

As nervous as she still was, she couldn't help but stop and take a deep, contented breath. There was nothing quite like being outside in the fresh air. Okay, so city air wasn't necessarily the freshest. But as she'd been inside either a hospital or an apartment for the better part of over a month, Kate was more than willing to take what she could get.

She cast measured looks up and down the block. No sign of suspicious activity. She looked again, taking mental note of cars and faces. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Deep breath. Nothing to it but to do it, right? Throwing a final look over her shoulder, she set off at a brisk jog.

It took her a few paces before she realized that she'd have to loosen up a bit if she wanted to enjoy herself at all; running while stiff was a recipe for disaster, and disaster was _not_ something she particularly relished. So she slowly let the tension eke out of her as she fell into the rhythm of her run.

Damn, she'd forgotten how utterly therapeutic running could be. She normally enjoyed exercise with more of a goal than "run X amount of miles." But running was good for clearing her mind and having a comfortable rhythm, both of which were exceedingly welcome.

Rounding a corner, she briefly twisted to see if there were any cars following her. Nothing. She felt herself smiling. Good. This was good. Everything was going to be fine.

On she ran. She relished the sound of her feet pounding the pavement, the pulsing of her blood through her veins, the straining of her leg muscles, the feeling of sweat dripping down her back. It was painful, yes, but the good kind of painful. It made her feel alive.

For the first time in weeks, her mind was blissfully clear. She was aware of her worries and concerns, but they were foggy, buried in a dusty corner of her mind that she only bothered with when she was stationary. Right now, it was just her and her heartbeat, dashing through the city she loved, returning home – well, sort of home – to a man that… hmm. Well, a man that made her happy.

Kate checked the time, and was startled to find that it was nearly time to head back to her pseudo-home to save Rick from impending heart failure. She grinned and shook her head in amusement, and decided to finish her run strong, sprinting the last block back to the apartment. She skidded to a halt and collapsed against the side of the building, lungs searing, but unable to wipe the smile from her face.

She entered the lobby and rode the elevator up, hoping that she wasn't too offensively gross to be in public but not really caring either way; runner's high was a beautiful thing. She was still feeling nice and light when she pushed open the door to the loft.

What she saw (and heard) surprised her; Rick was playing the piano. Not half badly, either. It stunned her at first, but after she rolled it around in her mind for a few seconds, she found that it actually wasn't all that surprising. Cocking her head curiously, she crossed the living room, heading in his direction. She'd nearly reached him before he looked up and saw her, relief palpable in the way he smiled.

"You're late," he said accusingly.

She shrugged her good shoulder. "Apparently I'm more in shape than I thought." She reached the piano and he slid to his right on the bench to make room for her.

"Good run?" he asked as she sat down.

She grinned and tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling. "_Amazing_ run," she sighed. "Never have I appreciated a good workout more."

"Good," he said, eyes twinkling pleasantly. "'Cause you were absolutely right. You _should _get out there, and you _can't_ let him win." She met his eyes and they shared a smile.

"So what's with this?" she asked, changing the subject and gesturing to the piano. "I didn't even know you played."

He shrugged. "I don't, really."

She arched an eyebrow. "It certainly sounded like playing to me."

"Okay," he chuckled. "I _can_ play, a little bit at least. I don't very often, though."

"Obviously, since this is the first I've seen of it since I've been here."

"I only play when I'm really anxious about something," he said, smiling cheekily at her.

She made a face at him. "Jerk. So, when did you learn?"

"It was never a conscious decision," he said, playing a chord absentmindedly. "My mother's an actress, so when I was a kid I was constantly in the theater and surrounded by music. The piano was just the most accessible instrument. I used to help her rehearse once I got good enough."

Kate sighed, and ran her hand across the glossy keys. "I wish I could play the piano."

"Do you play anything?"

"Strictly strings," she answered. "Violin for a few years in high school, and I know a little bit of guitar."

"You play the guitar?"

"Yep."

"We should jam sometime!" he joked excitedly.

She groaned. "Oh my god, _never_ say that again."

"Okay," he laughed. "So. You were saying you wish you could play piano?"

"Mhm," she said with a nod. "And of course, when I'm staying in an apartment with one, with someone who I assume would teach me, I can only use one arm." She sighed. "Such is life."

Rick paused thoughtfully, playing another chord as he did so. "Hmm. Well," he said slowly, "I could be your right arm."

She looked at him curiously. "How would that work?"

"Well, chords and notes and stuff would be hard to learn with one working hand, but I could teach you a song. You play the left hand's notes, and I play the right. Here," he said, sliding closer to her so that they were now pressed together. Kate's breath hitched; she hadn't thought about this particular consequence of having him as her right arm. "Fur Elise is easy, and each hand works independently from each other."

"You say it's easy, and I say I've never touched a piano before and you're trying to teach my non-dominant hand," she said wryly.

"If you know music, than I promise, it's easy," he said, placing his own left hand on the keys to demonstrate. "Here. These notes are A, E, and A. Pinky, middle finger, thumb. The right hand plays the first few notes," which he played as he spoke, "And when I hit this bottom one here, you play those three. Just roll right up the scale."

She did so, having to twist her body slightly to get her arm at the right angle; this song was not meant to be played by a person that was two bodies wide.

"You can do it a little harder," he said. At her raised eyebrows, he held up his hands defensively. "Hey, you're the one making that dirty!"

She laughed, and played her notes again, using more pressure this time.

"Good!" he said encouragingly. "Now the right hand has some more," he played several more notes, "And again, when I hit the bottom, you start yours, but this time you play E, E, G sharp, which is right over here." He took her hand and placed it on the correct keys.

She attempted to play them. "I didn't know I'd have to be a contortionist," she commented with a chuckle, her elbow sticking up at a funny angle so she could reach the final note.

He laughed. "Yes, it's much more comfortable to play when you don't have another body in the way. But that was good."

"Okay! This _is _pretty easy," she said with a smile. "What's next?"

He grinned at her enthusiasm, playing his next few notes. "I've got these, and on the high note, you have A, E, A again."

Eyes narrowed as she concentrated on remembering where her original hand placement was, she tentatively played those notes again, smiling in victory when they were correct.

"You're a prodigy."

"False," she laughed, looking up to meet his gaze. She hadn't realized just how close they'd been sitting. She could've counted the flecks of deep indigo in his eyes if she'd wanted to. "Thanks for this," she said softly.

"My pleasure," he said, his tone matching hers. "But we're not done yet."

"No, I mean being willing to sit so close to me when I haven't showered after my run."

He laughed, and she stood up. "I really should go make myself less gross."

"I really don't mind."

"But I do," she said, touching his shoulder and allowing her hand to trail across to his other side as she walked behind him on her way towards the stairs. "Let's finish this later? You can test me to see how much I remember."

"You're on," he said with a grin.

She threw a final saucy look over her shoulder and headed upstairs, the strains of Fur Elise keeping her company.

* * *

><p>AN: Apologies if there really are any piano prodigies out there, because I myself have never played piano. I stole the idea from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1, and got everything from tutorials on YouTube. Heh. :)  
>I promise faster updates. Like, for serious this time. Pinky swear. And reviews shall keep me motivated as I'm coming down the home stretch!<p> 


	9. You Give Love A Bad Name

A/N: The best thing about writing a few chapters ahead of your posting schedule? Multiple chapters to post in a short period of time! Hooray! :P

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 9 - You Give Love A Bad Name<em>

_An angel's smile is what you sell,  
>You promise me heaven, then put me through hell. <em>

"Ouch."

Kate dropped her pen at the shock of the pain that shot through her shoulder, and immediately raised her left hand to rub gingerly at it. As annoyed with it as she was, she was immensely relieved that her aches and pains were no longer jagged and sharp, but more of a dull throb.

"You okay?"

She looked over at Rick, who was lounged, in a similar position as her, across the other section of the sofa, laptop propped on his knees. "Yeah. It's just been so much better that I sometimes forget to be careful."

"You? Forgetting to be careful?"

She heaved a dramatic sigh, picked up her pen, and returned to her journal. "I know, right? I think I've spent far too much time with you."

"No such thing," he said absentmindedly, plucking away at his keyboard.

She snorted, just as the doorbell buzzed.

Rick looked mildly confused as he moved to stand, placing his computer on the coffee table. "Are you expecting anyone?"

Kate shook her head. "Nope."

She continued writing as Rick made his way towards the door, smiling slightly and rolling her eyes as she heard him stub his toe on the way.

"Owww," he grumbled.

"We all have our battle wounds," she commented dryly.

"Hey!" he whined, a chuckle indicating his true feelings more so than the moaning. "It could be broken!"

She looked up to see him theatrically clutching his foot and hopping the remaining few feet to the door. Biting her lip against a laugh, she once again turned to her journal. She heard the door open.

"Gina?"

She sat up abruptly, jarring her shoulder again as she twisted her body to look over the back of the couch. Her journal slid to the floor. "Gina?"

Indeed, there she was, standing at the threshold of the apartment, looking flawlessly perfect from the top of her blonde head to the tips of her manicured toenails. One immaculate eyebrow was arched in disapproval as she observed Rick, who hastily dropped his foot and put it flat on the ground. Kate rolled her eyes and raked a hand through her hair, which suddenly felt twice as limp and frizzy than it had before in the face of Gina's undoubtedly expensive blowout. Annoyed at herself, she leaned over and snatched her journal from the floor.

Rick cleared his throat awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm fine, thanks, and it's lovely to see you too," Gina said, stepping inside and striding to the kitchen. Kate rolled her eyes again, and Rick glanced briefly upwards before closing the door and following her.

"Gina," he said in a tone of forced politeness, "what are you doing here?"

"What, I'm not allowed to drop by?"

Kate turned back to her journal, rolling her eyes yet again; she wondered briefly if it was possible for them to get stuck like that.

"There's nothing that says you can't," he answered, "I'm just not sure why you chose to."

"I wanted to make sure you're writing."

Kate realized that she hadn't written anything, her pen poised over the paper but frozen in place, and was eavesdropping unabashedly.

"You couldn't have done that over the phone?"

"Richard, we both know that you're far too adept at avoiding my calls."

"Well, maybe if you made less of them, I wouldn't have to avoid so many."

Kate snorted.

"If you could find it in yourself to actually do your job, I wouldn't have to continuously check up on you."

Kate silently mimed barfing into her lap. She heard a distinctly male laugh that was hastily disguised into a cough, and looked up to see Rick pursing his lips against a grin and laughing with his eyes. Gina turned to look at her as well, lips pursed (definitely not against a grin).

"Is there something you'd like to say, detective?"

"Gina," she said sweetly, "trust me, if I had something to say, I'd say it." She turned back to her journal again, and muttered, "Because right now, I'm utterly speechless."

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Gina didn't seem to have heard her last comment, and instead focused her attention back on Rick. "Can we talk somewhere more private?" Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into his office, slamming the door behind them.

Rick stumbled, but caught himself before he crashed into his desk, and turned to face Gina, quite bemused. "What the hell?"

"Tell me, Rick," she said in a deadly whisper. "Are you really writing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Um. Yes?"

She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him accusingly.

He was baffled. "I'm sorry, I really don't know what you want me to say here."

"You don't write under the best of circumstances," she huffed. "And now she's _living _with you? First of all, why did I not know this until now, and second, how am I supposed to think that this is a situation that's helping you focus on work?"

Rick rubbed a hand down his face. "First of all, because you're not my keeper. And second of all, because I don't have to go to the precinct to see her. I don't understand how _you_ don't understand why having my inspiration close at hand is beneficial."

"Oh please," Gina said, narrowing her eyes, "you just want to get into her pants."

"That's not true, and you know it," he said, beginning to lose his control over his anger. "Actually, I think that's why you're here. You're jealous."

"Excuse me?" she sputtered. "I do not get jealous!"

"Oh, really? That's not why you raced over here the second you found out about my living arrangements?"

"I came over here to make sure you're working," she said, straightening indignantly. "I am your publisher, and—"

"You're also my ex-wife. And ex-girlfriend," he said bluntly. "And never, in the entire time we've known each other, have you been so intent on checking up on me, and doing so in person." He grabbed a thick stack of papers from his desk, and thumbed through them for Gina's benefit. "Look. Chapters. For the book. That I have been sending in periodically. You cannot tell me that you didn't know about this. I'm finally living up to your standards of productivity, and yet you decide to barge into my home! And for what, Gina?"

"I do not have to explain myself to you," she hissed. "Part of my job is keeping you on track with your deadlines. Is it so wrong of me to be worried about your work when you have _her_ here?"

"Don't say '_her_' like you think she's some hussy off the street," he said furiously. "You know better than that."

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"No, I'm not. So I'd appreciate it if you could get off your damn high horse for a minute and _stop judging._"

She shot him a withering look, turned abruptly, and flounced out of the office, Rick hot on her heels.

"How much longer are you going to be imposing on Richard's hospitality?" Gina asked Kate icily as she strode towards the door.

Kate looked a bit taken aback, and her eyes flicked briefly to Rick before she answered. "I have a doctor's appointment in a week. I should be getting the all-clear then."

Rick was barely able to acknowledge the slight pang those words produced before Gina shot him a look of deepest loathing and stalked out of the apartment. It took all of his self control not to give the finger to her retreating back, and he heaved a sigh of relief when the door shut behind her.

"Okay," Kate said, "what the hell was that?"

"That," Rick said, slumping back onto the couch and resuming his previous position, "was why I no longer have a ring on my finger."

"Oh," she said, slightly awkwardly. "Was this my fault? Did she yell at you because I was being slightly obnoxious?"

He chuckled. "That wasn't obnoxious, that was perfectly snarky. And no, she was just looking for a reason to yell at me, as she is wont to do. But speaking of snark, what was that all about?" He grinned. "It was awesome, but where'd it come from?"

She shrugged. "I have no reason to like her and every reason to dislike her."

He cocked his head in question.

"Oh come on," she said. "You're my…" she paused for a moment, "well, whatever we are. You've divorced her _and_ broken up with her. You avoid her calls. I mean, even if you'd said nice things about her – which you haven't – you're not you when she's around."

"What do you mean?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she searched for the right words. "I don't know. You're… stiffer. Like you're trying to live up to her bizarre standards."

"Huh," he mused. "I hadn't even noticed that."

"Why was she looking to pick a fight with you, anyway?"

"'Cause she's jealous."

Kate's jaw dropped. "She's…"

"Jealous, yes."

"…of me?"

"That would be the logical conclusion. She's certainly not jealous of me, although that would explain a few things."

Despite herself, she chuckled. "Is this what I'm in for? Being hated by women everywhere?"

His insides gave a pleasurable squirm. "Would it put you off if I said yes?"

"No."

"I—wait, what?"

She smiled, and raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're surprised."

"You don't strike me as one to be intimidated like that, no, but the fact that you said it out loud is a different story."

She chuckled. "We'll have to be honest with each other about these things at some point, right?"

He grinned. "Right. So uh, yeah, there's jealousy."

She shrugged. "Says good things about my taste, right?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "I certainly think so. And please, feel free to get territorial."

"Aren't you the one complaining that Gina's jealous? But you're telling me to do it?"

"I'm not telling you to go all crazy and bitchy," he said with a grin. "_That's_ not attractive."

"But I'm allowed to be polite and jealous?" she asked wryly.

"Absolutely."

She laughed.

"No, I'm serious!" he said earnestly. "Jealousy is good on some level. It's always nice to feel wanted by the right person, isn't it?"

"True," she conceded.

"Just not in an oppressive way."

"So I have future permission to be non-oppressively jealous?"

"I would love for you to be non-oppressively jealous."

"And what's the line between oppressive and not?"

He paused in thought. "I'll know it when I see it."

"That doesn't help me."

"And strangely, I'm not worried. You don't seem like the oppressive type."

"Good, 'cause I'm not."

"Good."

"But I could be in the future. You never know. Women are crazy."

"Please, you think I don't know? I'm twice divorced. I think I know a thing or two about crazy women."

"So then you know that, depending where your fans decide to put their hands, I can make no promises."

"And I'm perfectly okay with that."

"Good." She bit her lip, suddenly battling a laugh. "Did we really just have this conversation?"

He laughed. "Ya know, I think we did. But does this mean I have permission to be jealous too? I promise to be polite."

"I didn't know men knew how to be polite jealous. Usually jealousy involves yelling and shoving."

"I only do that when there's another man trying to kill you."

She grinned. "True. And in those cases, I am perfectly okay with those actions. Not so much when it comes to jealousy."

"So what _is _okay?"

"I really shouldn't answer that just to prove my point about how unhelpful it is to not have an answer. But," she said before he could whine, "don't you already know the answer?"

"Huh?"

She sighed and shook her head, pretending to be exasperated. "You don't remember? I told you I think it's sweet when you set your poker buddies on a guy to give him a hard time, didn't I?"

Rick's eyes went wide. "Oh yeah! You _like _when I get jealous!"

"I wouldn't go _that_ far…"

He laughed. "Why are we even having this conversation? I'm good to go!"

She eyeballed him. "No yelling. And no violence."

"Depending on where _your_ fans put their hands, I can make no promises. Men are crazy."

She sighed, but chuckled. "Don't I know it."

* * *

><p>AN: Kinda short, but I think it wrapped itself up nicely right here. A penny for your thoughts? If I survive tomorrow (early morning wakeup call for volunteer work with the Florida Panthers, homework, then the Miami/Ohio State football game at night), I shall have another chapter up! This is your reward for putting up with my patchy updates all summer, lol.


	10. Welcome to Wherever You Are

A/N: I've never updated in three consecutive days before. I feel like I should say something, but there's nothing new going on. So I'll shut up! :)

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 10 - Welcome to Wherever You Are<em>

_If you feel alone and lost and need a friend,  
>Remember every new beginning is some beginning's end. <em>

She found him in his bedroom. Even though she'd been living with him for the better part of a month (so long, in fact, that she could now find her way around in total darkness), she hadn't yet been in there. That was a line she wasn't quite willing to cross. But she was now done with her final doctor's appointment, and he'd been nowhere to be found.

She'd wandered into his office and found the door to his bedroom was open, so she peeked inside. He was sitting on his bed, doing something on that phone of his, and she leaned against the doorjamb and watched him for a moment. But she was antsy, and when he didn't notice her presence right away, she took action.

Rick jumped when her balled up sling hit him in the face, and she laughed.

He chuckled as well, slipping his phone back into his pocket, and held up her sling by the strap. It dangled there uselessly as he stood.

"Does this mean what I think it means?"

She nodded and held her hands at shoulder level, wiggling her fingers. "Cleared of all charges." She wasn't sure if she hoped he heard the note of melancholy in her voice.

He grinned (was it just her imagination, or did his smile not quite reach his eyes?). "That's fantastic. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

There was a slightly awkward pause. _Awkward pause?_ There hadn't been one of those since… shit. Kate couldn't even remember their last awkward pause.

She cleared her throat. "So I guess this means I'll be out of your hair."

"Well, not yet, I hope."

"What do you mean?"

"My mother and Alexis come home on Sunday, so you have your room for two more nights. And I was thinking maybe we could all have dinner that night." He smiled nervously. "You could invite your dad, make it a family thing."

She paused thoughtfully. "Under one condition."

"Name it."

She grinned. "I get to help with the cooking."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked mock dubiously. "I mean, I've seen the takeout containers in your fridge…"

"Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Just because I _don't_ cook doesn't mean I _can't_. And after mooching off of _your_ cooking for a month, it's about time I pull my own weight."

He grinned as she turned to leave the room.

Suddenly she spun back to face him again. "And I made you breakfast that one time and I didn't hear you complaining!"

He laughed. "I would never!"

She narrowed her eyes. "I think you're forgetting that I can now beat you with both hands again."

"I don't think I'd be able to forget if I tried." He waited until she'd left before muttering, "But that's what she said."

"I heard that!" she called.

He winced.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Her toiletries were cleared out of the bathroom. The drawers were devoid of her clothes, which were now neatly packed into her suitcase, standing next to the door, ready to go. Alexis's room (she could no longer think of it as her own) had been painstakingly cleaned and restored to how it had been the day the girl had left it. She had stripped and remade the bed (only after arguing Rick into submission) with Alexis's favorite sheets. Was she nervous to hear Rick's daughter's opinion about their current (and future) relationship? She kept telling herself she wasn't, but truthfully, if she gave that answer to a polygraph, she'd probably fail.

Okay, she'd definitely fail.

She took a deep breath, picked up her suitcase, and left the room. _Fake it 'til you make it._

She reached the first floor landing and saw Rick sitting in the kitchen, flicking through a cookbook. She left her suitcase by the front door and went to join him, hopping onto the stool to his left.

"Any ideas?" she asked, leaning over to look at the recipe he'd paused on. She noticed that he didn't slide it closer to her, thereby ensuring that she had to sit practically on top of him. She rolled her eyes in amusement. Boys. So easy to read.

"Well, Alexis loves this chicken piccata pasta toss…"

Kate shrugged. "Works for me."

"Yeah," she said, hopping off her stool and going to look for ingredients. "We have chicken in the freezer, right?"

"Wow, you're easy," he commented. When she turned and raised an eyebrow at him, he amended hastily, "You know what I mean."

She chuckled and pulled the freezer door open. "Well, I don't really care either way what we eat, so why be difficult?"

"You're the coolest girl ever."

She rolled her eyes in amusement and grabbed the plastic-wrapped chicken from the shelf, closing the door behind her. "Here, you defrost this. I can't give up my iPod duties on my last night."

This time, Rick was deft enough to catch what she threw at him, and whacked her lightly on the back of the head with it as they passed each other, circling the island in opposite directions. She playfully punched his back in return, and was chuckling as she reached the speakers. She leaned against the counter and began to scroll through Rick's iPod.

"Excuse me," she said suddenly, selecting the song she'd just come across, "Why have I been here for a month and am just now finding the Santana you have on your iPod?"

He shrugged and pulled the chicken from the microwave. "I think I'm the wrong person to ask. Quite frankly, I'm disappointed. You've been rooting around in it every night, and you miss _Santana_ of all artists? Good song choice, by the way," he commented.

"Thanks. All I Ever Wanted has always been my favorite of his stuff."

"Me too, actually."

"Really?" she asked. "I would've pegged you as more of a Black Magic Woman kind of guy."

He chuckled. "Nope. I'm a sucker for a love song that's not a ballad."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Exactly my thinking too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, it has all the same romance and feelings of a ballad, but it's not—"

"Cheesy or sappy or otherwise embarrassing to listen to?"

She laughed. "Yes. Like, this song is the kind of relationship I want to have. Romantic, but more than a little bit kick-ass."

He grinned. "No power ballads?"

She shuddered. "God, no. They're embarrassing, remember? I don't do sappy and overdramatic."

"Should I be taking notes?"

"I don't know," she said, cocking her head and smirking. "Should you?"

"No," he said thoughtfully, "I think I've got it."

"Do you now?"

"Yeah. You don't want Richard Gere in a tuxedo, jumping out of a limo with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and climbing up a fire escape." She giggled, and his eyes sparkled.

"So what _do_ you think I want?"

He shrugged a little, as if to say it was obvious. "All I ever wanted was to be with you."

Rationally, she knew he'd only said it because it was a lyric in the song that was currently playing, and that he meant that all she wanted was sincerity. Rationally. But while her brain was busy being rational, her heart sputtered and stopped and her stomach did some weird things it had never done before. Trying to gather her wits as quickly as she could (as well as remember why she wasn't jumping this man already), she fought a goofy grin and instead said quietly, "I wouldn't say no to the flowers either."

He grinned, and she knew it because the fact that she wasn't turning down his advances anymore was still such a new concept. "Good. Now that little tidbit of information won't have to go to waste."

Honestly, it didn't surprise her that he knew her favorite flowers.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kate pinched herself.

She was sitting at a dinner table with her dad, Rick, and his mother and daughter. Having a "family dinner." And it actually felt like a family.

She pinched herself again.

Both Martha and Rick had joined her in forgoing their usual glasses of wine in favor of a nonalcoholic drink, for her dad. Alexis wasn't showing any signs of outward hostility, at least not yet. Her dad and Rick were getting along quite spectacularly. Perhaps a little TOO spectacularly; she'd have to remember to go through old family photos and hide anything incriminating.

Things were going well. Really well.

Alexis was currently in the middle of explaining her Stanford plans to the one occupant at the table that didn't know about them, while Rick was poking sullenly at the food on his plate.

"I'm not just going for Ashley, either. It's a really great school, and it was on my list of schools to apply to anyway, right dad?" He shrugged, and Alexis rolled her eyes and patted his arm in an exasperated but understanding sort of way. "He's still not thrilled that I have a boyfriend. _Still_," she emphasized, finally shooting Rick a glance that was more than a little bit annoyed.

Kate chuckled. "Alexis, let me enlighten you a bit. This may be annoying to you now, but it'll all be different once you're not married with children by the age daddy dearest deems appropriate." She shot a look at her own father, who raised his hands innocently.

Rick shook his head vehemently. "Nope. Never. I will never wish for my daughter to abandon me in such a fashion." Alexis swatted his arm.

"That's what I used to think," Jim said. "But then I started wanting grandchildren."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Always the self-serving one, my dad."

Jim chuckled. "Okay, and I want her to fall hopelessly in love and be happy." Kate blushed. "But really, Katie, I do want grandchildren."

"Dad."

"And neither of us are getting any younger."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying!" he said with a grin.

She sighed, but raised a challenging eyebrow. "Let me find a husband first, will you? Then we can talk about me giving you some grandkids."

Jim turned to Rick. "So propose first, okay?"

"Oh my god," Kate said, slumping forward and resting her head on the table. "Alexis, please be aware that dads never get any less embarrassing."

Alexis, who had her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her laughter, let out a sound that sounded like a cross between a whimper and a groan.

"It's a parent's job to be embarrassing, darling," Martha chimed in. Kate looked up from the table. "It's how we show we care. Like the time I—"

"Don't," Rick broke in quickly, in a deadly voice. "Stop right there."

Martha shrugged, as if to say 'your choice.' "I think I've embarrassed you enough in your lifetime that I can keep some stories a secret."

"What?" Kate exclaimed, aghast.

"…For now." Martha winked at Kate, who grinned.

"Hey!" Rick cried.

"Well, if you two are going to get married and give us old folk here some grandchildren, I can't really keep secrets from her, can I?"

Kate was sure her face was bright red. She met Rick's gaze; it looked like he was trying not to laugh. "And just for that, we are now exempt from dish duty." He stood, and she followed suit. "We will be on the couch, being lazy and not doing anything, should you all need us."

"Which you shouldn't, because you will take this time to think about what you did," Kate added in as parental a tone as she could muster.

Their seriousness fell away as soon as they left the table, and Kate sank onto the couch, shaking with laughter. "Oh my god, I will kill my father!"

"Please don't, I like him!"

"Even after that?"

"Well, apparently if he has his way I'll be his son-in-law one day, so I think it'd be a fatal mistake to dislike him," Rick said, a twinkle in his eye.

"Good, then the feeling's mutual," she said. "My dad doesn't suggest that a man propose to me very often, ya know."

"No?"

"Nope. Actually, the only time he ever came close to doing so was when he sort of tolerated a guy I'd been dating for awhile. But we'd known each other since grade school so he was already ahead of the game."

"Wait a second. That man there," Rick said, pointing at Jim, who was laughing with Martha and Alexis as the three of them washed the dishes, "is disapproving of men that are interested in you? That man that just told me to propose to you before we have children together?"

"I know, right?"

Rick scratched his chin. "Well then."

"Mhm."

"And I didn't even have to kiss his ass."

She chuckled. "Thankfully for all of us."

"But can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Would your mom have liked me?"

Kate was a bit taken aback, but she already knew the answer. "Yeah, she would've."

He laughed at her instantaneous answer. "You don't have to lie."

She chuckled. "I'm not. I've actually thought about it."

"You have?"

"Yeah. She probably would've thought you're a little bit on the eccentric side—"

"Too true."

"—but you definitely would've made her laugh. And besides, she generally tended to like people that made me happy."

His eyes widened slightly before his face split in a wide grin.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So."

She sighed. "So."

Dinner was over. Alexis had disappeared upstairs to call Ashley, Jim had made his exit nearly an hour earlier, and even Martha was making herself inconspicuous. Kate stood by the door, her suitcase at her feet, Rick standing in front of her. She was really leaving.

"Do you need help with that?" he asked, gesturing to her bag.

"No thanks, I can manage." She swallowed hard. "I should probably say thank you for everything, but those words feel… really inadequate."

He smiled softly. "You don't have to say anything. You know I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I know."

She wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly she was pressed up against his chest, his arms around her and hers around him, her face buried in his shoulder. She felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes and hugged him tighter, even though she knew she'd see him again soon, it just wouldn't be the same. _But it could be_, whispered her conscience.

But before her thoughts could go any further than that, they had stepped away from each other, her suitcase was in her hand, and the door was shutting behind her.

She sighed.

_Soon._

* * *

><p>AN: One more chapter, guys! And it's half written! I mean, it's gonna be interesting trying to finish it tomorrow, but still. It's comingggg!


	11. Livin' On A Prayer

A/N: We got our first short stories critiqued in creative writing. My professor said mine was "very ambitious," but "not quite successful." My reaction? "LET'S GO WRITE MORE FANFICTION! I CAN DO THAT! YAY!" Lol. Ah, life.  
>In response to your reviews: Of course they should've kissed at the door. But would you have respected me if I'd fallen victim to the goodbye kiss cliche? ;)<br>And, in other news, I finished this with mere hours to spare! Woot! I always have worked better under deadline.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 11 - Livin' On A Prayer<em>

_Take my hand, and we'll make it, I swear._

Kate rubbed her throbbing temples and flopped down onto her bed. It had been almost two weeks since she'd returned to work, and to say it had been stressful would've been an understatement.

She'd told Rick not to come to the precinct on her first day back; she'd wanted to speak to this new captain about him first, before he just showed up. That conversation had not gone well.

"I will not permit a civilian to help with investigations. End of story."

"But ma'am—"

"No," Victoria Gates said, a steely glint in her eye, "You will call me either 'captain' or 'sir.'"

"Okay, _sir_," Kate said, putting slight emphasis on the word and feeling a little bit like a snotty kid speaking to her teacher at school, "Castle has been with this precinct for longer than some of our uniforms."

"That doesn't make him a cop."

"I am aware of that. However, he's not a novice. He doesn't screw up investigations."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I did too, at first. But he's helpful, knows his stuff, and thinks outside the box."

"I don't care, detective. He's not a cop. He doesn't belong here."

Kate stiffened. "Ask anyone in this precinct and they will tell you otherwise."

Captain Gates folded her arms. "Detective Beckett, I am not here to make friends or bend the rules. And neither are you."

"So you don't care that he's helped improve our closure rate? Isn't solving murders our top priority?" Kate had to stop herself from smiling when she saw the captain's resolve lessen just a hair. "Captain, I promise you, he is a part of our team, and hell will be raised if he's not allowed to work with us."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a fact."

Gates pursed her lips. "Mr. Castle gets one case. If I approve, he can stay. But if not…"

Kate smiled. "Thank you."

So she'd called Rick, and he'd been at the precinct bright and early the next day, two coffees in tow. She'd immediately pulled him aside.

"If there was ever a time to play it straight, it's now," she'd told him in a low voice. "She does _not_ want you here."

"I'm sure she'll warm up to me eventually."

"Rick," she hissed, "I'm serious. She is not going to be charmed by you. She's looking for any and all excuses to get you out of here for good. I promise you, one false move and you're gone."

"Okay," he said seriously, straightening up. "I'll be a model citizen."

And he had been. He stayed quiet and respectful around Captain Gates, only speaking when strictly necessary and only offering his most valid and thought-through theories. Kate found herself missing the Castle that would quip about a package containing Dick Cheney's soul, but couldn't deny that she was glad he was taking the situation so seriously. This was going to be one hell of an uphill battle, and it was good to know he was prepared to fight as hard as she was.

Things had gradually fallen into a tense status quo, and the team had worked their first case smoothly enough, though none of them could honestly say it had been an easy one.

…Okay, Kate had to admit that she probably had a harder time with it than the rest of them had. All because of that busty blonde lawyer that kept making eyes at Rick across the interrogation table. Her client had been in and out of the precinct for the entire case, and Kate had walked away from each of those meetings feeling sulky and unpleasant. Rick hadn't even really reciprocated either (though he was a red blooded male and acted accordingly), so for a while she couldn't figure out why her hackles were up.

But when the case had finally wrapped, she'd rounded a corner and saw the woman's hands in places they really shouldn't have been.

Kate still felt the slight remnants of the fury and frustration that had coursed through her at that moment. They bubbled in the pit of her stomach and whispered '_call him. Call him.'_ She eyed her phone. She hadn't written in her journal in ages. Everything felt stable and normal and… good.

Her phone was in her hand. But what exactly was she planning on saying? On _doing_? Her thumb stalled over his name. She swallowed hard. Why was she making such a big deal out of this? She just wanted to see him, right? Nothing they'd never done before. She opened a new text message.

_Pizza and beer. You in?_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Of course he'd been "in." Did she even have to ask?

But he was now sitting on her couch next to her, and she didn't quite seem to know what to do with herself. She had one arm wrapped around herself and was chewing a nail on her other hand, looking distinctly worried and more than a bit uncomfortable. Rick had no idea what he'd done wrong.

"I like your hair like that," he offered. It was true; she'd pulled it back into a French braid, and he'd forgotten how good she looked with her hair back.

She smiled somewhat awkwardly. "Thanks. Just taking advantage of my newfound dexterity, I guess."

He sighed. This was ridiculous. "Is everything okay?"

She paused. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It's just…"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

She let out a breath in a huff. "Seriously? You know what I'm thinking when I don't even know I'm thinking it, except when it's something I'm having trouble articulating?"

He shrugged. "Apparently."

She chewed her bottom lip. "At work…"

"At work what?"

"That lawyer."

"What about her?" He saw her swallow hard, and something suddenly clicked into place in his mind. "Wait a second," he said slowly. "Were you… jealous?"

"I'm not proud of it," she said, sounding like she had to force the words out and avoiding his eyes.

He was flabbergasted. "But I didn't—I mean, I turned her down. Repeatedly."

"I know," she said. "It was just that… she was all over you." She swallowed hard again, and stared very hard at the opposite wall. "And I had no claim."

Rick had to fight very hard to keep his mouth from falling open, because his heart was suddenly in his throat and it probably wouldn't be good manners for his heart to be falling out of his open mouth and onto her carpet. So he managed to choke it back down to his chest, where it thundered rapidly. "You can," he said calmly and quietly, in direct contrast to what he was actually feeling. "Anytime you want."

She twisted her hands briefly in her lap. "I do."

"Um," he stuttered, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I do," she said, taking a deep breath and turning to face him, her eyes swimming with emotion; he felt them swallow him whole. "I'm sick of all of this. I hate denying myself something that I want, and denying you something _you_ want. It's stupid and unnecessary and… I want to be able to tell a touchy-feely lawyer to back the hell off, ya know? I want to be able to touch you when I want to and not feel awkward and weird about it and wonder if I'm being a tease or crossing some line. I want you to know how I feel about you, not because you can 'read me,' but because you _actually know_. I want—"

He couldn't help it; he kissed her. And she sighed into his mouth and kissed him back, and all was right in the world. Her hands tangled in his hair and his found their way to her hips, finding the sliver of skin between hem of her t-shirt and the waistband of her jeans and making her gasp. He was drowning in her, her taste and her smell and her touch, and good god, this was all he ever needed for the rest of his life.

She pulled away from him, only far enough to catch her breath, their noses still touching, her eyes dark with desire. "—you," she finished.

They never did get around to the pizza and beer.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Kate awoke while the room was still dark, and had either slept so lightly that her brain never turned off, or so well that her mind was lucid and clear when she woke up. As she was facing away from the rest of her bed, the only indication of another body in the room was a warm foot resting against her calf.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This did not happen the way I thought it would."

She rolled over and found Rick, unsurprisingly, awake and looking at her. "No?"

"No. Though nothing about us ever has, so this really shouldn't surprise me."

They shared a smile, and a moment passed in silence before he spoke again. "Three things."

"Okay. Number one?"

"Sorry I ruined your braid," he said, reaching out to finger the ends of her hair that hung loose over her shoulder.

She chuckled. "It's okay, now that I have the ability to re-do it any time I want. And besides," she added cheekily, "It was worth it."

He grinned. "I thought so too."

"Okay. Number two?"

His grin not slipping even a little bit, his hand slipped below the comforter and fell to her hip. "I found your tattoo," he said, his thumb rubbing circles over it and sending her blood racing.

"Don't give yourself too much credit. It stopped being difficult when I let you take my clothes off."

"True.

"What does it say?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I did not have nearly enough wits about me to be reading anything when I was seeing it."

She chuckled. "I think that deserves both a thank you and a you're welcome. It says 'whatever anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.'"

"I like it," he said quietly. "What's the significance?"

"It's a quote from the movie You've Got Mail," she said. "It came out about a month before my mom died. We saw it together in theaters, and that line really sort of stuck with her. She'd actually written it on a Post It and stuck it to her desk."

Rick smiled. "Admirable sentiment for a lawyer."

Kate nodded. "So when she died… you know, we thought it was a random killing for years, which was always the hardest part. It just felt so senseless and unnecessary. And all of a sudden I related to Kathleen Kelly being insulted that Joe Fox didn't think putting her out of business was personal. Because killing randomly might not mean anything to the person that did it, but…"

"It sure as hell meant something to you."

"Yeah," she said, sighing. "Plus, it keeps me honest."

"Honest?"

"Mhm. It's hard to have meaningless sex when you have a tattoo in a fairly intimate place saying how things should be personal. Especially when it relates to my dead mother."

He laughed. "Good point."

"So," she said with a smile. "I believe that was number two on your list. Number three?"

"Why are you all the way over there?"

She glanced at the space between them, and smirked as a particular memory came flooding back to her. "Wasn't it you that said my subconscious isn't much of a cuddler?"

He laughed and glanced at Beckett the Panda, who was sitting across the room on Kate's dresser. "Good point. But now that you're not unconscious anymore…"

She raised a flirty eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well, is your conscious mind a cuddler?"

She shrugged. "It might be able to be talked into it."

He rolled onto his back and held out his arm, gesturing her to his side with a slight question in his eyes. She scooted forwards and settled against him with a sigh. Their legs tangled and she felt his heartbeat in his chest as she rested her head on it, his hand running idly up and down her back.

She could really get used to this. She'd definitely just become a conscious cuddler, and might have to have a stern talking-to with her subconscious self. Because damn, this was nice.

"So how _did_ you think this would happen?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "I just know I did not plan to wake up with you in my bed tonight."

"Do you regret it?"

"No," she said quickly, wanting to dispel any doubts. "I don't usually sleep with a man moments after I tell him I want to be with him, but our timeline is more than a little bit warped, so it's not like I feel cheap or easy or anything like that. It's just… out of the ordinary."

"But not bad?"

"No," she said, snuggling closer to emphasize her point. "Not at all."

"Good," he said, kissing the top of her head.

Silence fell, and it took Kate a few moments before she realized how utterly not awkward the post-sex talk had been. There was none of that hesitancy, that oh-crap-what-do-we-do-now, that awkwardness that usually follows the first time. Probably because it had been a long time coming, she reflected. Although, lots of couples were together for ages before finally sleeping together, and she couldn't imagine that all of them weren't awkward because sex was a long time coming. So maybe she and Rick just worked.

…Hell, after last night, she _knew_ they worked.

And strangely, the thought didn't scare her as much as she thought it would. She'd always been a bit of a commitment-phobe, and thoughts of long-term relationships and talks of anything beyond casual dating, especially in the early stages, had her ready to throw in the towel. Maybe it was the men she'd foolishly chosen, maybe it was the point in her life in which she'd chosen them, or maybe it was a little bit of both. But here she was with Rick, cuddling and thinking sappy thoughts, not even a little bit afraid.

His hand slid downwards to her hipbone, and her breath hitched as he began tracing lightly over her scar. She wondered briefly if he even realized he was doing it, but then realized that she didn't care. He knew it was there and he wasn't shying away. He was doing the opposite, actually – he knew her flaws, mental, emotional, and physical, and loved her anyway.

…Wait.

"Rick?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"You know what you said to me right after I got shot?"

His hand stilled. "Yeah," he answered slowly.

She took a deep breath. "Do you still feel that way?"

She looked at him, resting her chin on his chest, and saw him looking at her seriously, a faint crease in his brow, but the beginnings of a smile just barely playing on his lips. "That's not the kind of thing I can just turn off."

"…So why haven't you said it since?"

He paused, eyes searching her face. "I don't want you to feel pressured into anything."

"So if you knew I wouldn't feel pressured…?"

"I'd be saying it so much you'd probably be begging me to stop." He chuckled. "And saying _that_ probably just defeated the whole purpose."

She laughed. "Kind of, yeah."

"So you don't feel pressured?"

She shook her head.

He smiled, and lifted his hand to caress her cheek, lightly stroking the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. "I love you."

She grinned. "I love you too."

It looked as though his face was going to crack under the strain of supporting such a big smile. "I love you."

She giggled. "You said that already."

"And I'll say it again."

She leaned up to kiss him, and murmured against his lips, "Fine by me."

* * *

><p>AN: Because, yes, I am incapable of writing anything but fluff. But you love me for it, right? ;) HAPPY SEASON FOUR, GUYS!


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